


Whatever This Is

by afictionado



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:05:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 64,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afictionado/pseuds/afictionado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from the beginning of "The Cricket Game." </p><p>Emma thinks she and Regina are becoming friends, and it's... weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kinda-Sorta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s weird, this whole... kinda-sorta being friends with Regina thing. She supposes it’s good, for Henry anyway, but... still really, really weird.

*****

It’s weird, this whole... kinda-sorta being friends with Regina thing. She supposes it’s good, for Henry anyway, but... still really, really weird. 

It started after the welcome home party at Granny’s. Regina called to thank her again for the invite, and to apologize (in her own, Regina-ish, not-really-an-apology way) for their minor tiff outside the diner. Emma had been so thrown off by the gesture, also maybe by the 3 drinks she had, that she just stupidly blurted out, “We should do that again.” 

She had to bite down on her lip to keep from swearing, so much so that she drew a little blood. The pain wasn't helped by the stunned silence on the other end of the line. She was about to check to see if the call had been dropped when Regina finally replied. 

“What - bicker in front of a diner?” 

The tone was so dry, so perfectly Regina, that Emma couldn't help rolling her eyes. “No. I mean, hang out.” 

Another pregnant pause had lingered between them -- she had used the time to wonder just how strong Granny mixed her drinks. 

“I... suppose a camaraderie would be beneficial to Henry.” 

So they kinda started... hanging out. Just in small increments at first. Regina had a virus on her computer and was ready to throw it out the window when Emma mentioned knowing how to fix it. So she’d gone over to fix it and left when she was through. It wasn't unbearably awkward, nor was it overly-friendly. 

The next time was when she and Mary Margaret ran into Regina at the grocery store. Things had been tense between the three of them, and Mary Margaret had finished her shopping quite quickly. Emma decided to hang back, ignoring the confused look she got from her mother, and completed her shopping trip alongside Regina. They had bickered when Emma reached for snack-size brownies to pack in Henry’s lunch (Regina all but forced her to buy baby carrots and celery sticks for him instead), but the bickering had been comfortable. 

Now, they get together for lunch on a weekly basis. Emma keeps her updated on Henry and Regina does her best to smile. She knows it’s still a sore subject, and she’s sure Regina’s still smarting from what she’d said in front of the diner weeks before, but somehow they keep things civil. 

“What do you like to drink, Miss Swan?” Regina asks her one day at lunch, while jabbing her fork through lettuce and a slice of tomato. 

Emma watches as the fork dips into a small plastic cup of dressing (always balsamic vinaigrette and always on the side) before she stammers, “Uhh... uh, beer I guess.” She furrows her brows, watching as Regina looks down at her small salad plate and jabs at it again. “Why?” 

A simple shrug rolls off Regina’s shoulders, the movement as fluid as the charcoal silk blouse she’s wearing today. One that looks eerily similar to the one she’d let Emma keep so long ago. 

_“Enjoy my shirt... because that’s all you’re getting.”_

Was it really just a year ago when they were striving to get back at one another constantly? Now here they are, sharing a small table at a deli. It’s run by one of the dwarves (she thinks it might be ‘Bashful’ - the guy always looks embarrassed about something) and they’re known for their Reuben. She’s not a fan of sauerkraut but she’s a sucker for corned beef and rye bread, so she picks hers up off the plate (no sauerkraut) and takes a big bite. 

“Seriously, why?” she asks again around a mouthful of corned beef. 

Regina gives her a look - she can’t figure out whether she’s annoyed at her talking with her mouth full or if the reason for her question should be obvious. 

“I hope you’re not passing your table etiquette on to my son,” she quips, one slim eyebrow arching sharply. 

Emma rolls her eyes, but finishes chewing and swallowing before she speaks again nonetheless. “Don’t worry, he’s still polite as can be.” 

“Good,” Regina huffs, and she thinks she hears a note of relief. After a moment, she gets around to answering Emma’s question. “I was going to see if you... wanted to stop by tomorrow night. For a bit.” She slowly lifts her eyes, gauging the reaction. 

Emma just stares, thinking of the last time they had a drink together -- not since they first met -- and how quickly things went downhill. 

She stares for so long that Regina ducks her head, spears another bite of salad, and mutters, “You can say no if you wish.” 

“No,” Emma replies, and Regina looks shocked for a minute before she clarifies, “No, I-I mean... sure, I’d love to come over.” She grimaces to herself when Regina looks away again -- _love to_? 

“Great,” Regina replies, and gives her a closed-lip smile, one that Emma can’t help returning before she tears off another chunk of sandwich. 

Regina huffs again and says, “Honestly, were you raised in a barn?” and Emma laughs, giving the toe of Regina’s boot a nudge under the table. 

“Come on, you can’t tell me you were a prim and proper lady _all_ the time,” she teases. 

Regina quirks a brow, but Emma doesn't miss the smirk to curl her lips. “You _do_ recall who my mother is, don’t you Miss Swan?” 

She tells her then and there to start calling her Emma, and they finish their lunch in a (really weirdly) comfortable silence. 

 

***** 

“You’re going over to Regina’s... alone?” 

Emma tilts her head at Mary Margaret, who’s arranging a vase of freshly-clipped flowers. “You say it like she’s gonna poison me.” 

One look is enough to get her to amend her statement. “Okay fine, so she tried to do that already--” 

“And put your son’s life in jeopardy--” 

“ _Regardless_ ,” Emma cuts her off with a sharp look, then allows her features to relax. “She’s trying to turn herself around for Henry’s sake, and...” She shrugs one shoulder. “And I think having a friend might help her stay on the right track. Plus, this will be good for Henry.” 

Mary Margaret quirks a brow but says nothing, turning her attention instead to the flower arrangement. 

Emma sighs, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island. “Look. I know you guys have your own past, and in your land she was the Evil Queen, but... here, she’s Regina. And she and I spent all of last year fighting and trying to get back at each other. Henry was put in the middle of that and both of us almost lost him. I don’t want that to continue and I don’t think she does, either. Which is why she’s probably extending this... olive branch, of sorts.” She nods once, as if that will convince her mother. 

David, who up until that point had been dutifully cleaning their dishes from lunch, turns around now and leans against the sink, towel over his shoulder as he folds his arms. “Emma, I think that’s a great idea.” 

Mary Margaret tosses her husband a glance over her shoulder. “David...” 

“I’m sorry,” he shrugs, patting her shoulder placatingly. “But she has a point. This constant tension between the two of them will only hurt Henry. It will only reinforce the ‘Evil Queen’ image he’s been carrying around for the last year.” 

“She _is_ the Evil Queen.” 

“To you,” Emma points out softly. “But she was Henry’s mom -- his only mom -- for the first ten years of his life. And she loves him more than anything. I know she does.” 

Mary Margaret keeps her gaze on her husband as she says lowly, “I can’t believe you’re going along with this. Do you not remember all that she’s done to us?” 

“I do.” 

“She’s the reason we are only now just getting to know our daughter,” she gestures toward Emma, “after twenty-eight years!” 

“Snow...” he cajoles, falling back on their old personas. “I will never forget all that she’s put us through. The ways in which she hurt you, over and over.” Bracing his hands on her shoulders, he lifts his brows and asks softly, “But if she is truly attempting to make a change for the better -- to let go of all of the darkness her mother instilled in her -- don’t you think she should have that chance?” 

“I’m through giving her chances.” 

“Well I’m not,” Emma tells her, drawing her gaze. “If you want to hold a grudge against her like she did with you, then that’s your decision. But she and I being... friends, acquaintances, whatever this is...” She holds her mother’s gaze, attempting to reassure her. “It’s a good thing. And it’s going to be okay.” 

Maybe somewhere along the way to Regina’s, she can start to believe that herself. Because right now, she’s not all that convinced that this is a good thing.

 

**TBC**


	2. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lunches they've shared thus-far have been pleasant, with just enough of an undercurrent of their usual banter that Regina didn't feel it was too forced. The invitation she'd extended to Emma had come out before she could think about it, and it threw them both off-kilter.

*****

 

Regina sees the yellow Bug roll to a stop out front from her vantage point in the master bedroom. She watches the car idle, and she thinks she sees Emma leaning toward the passenger side window, looking up at the house. 

_Probably contemplating turning around_ , she can't help but think with a wry smirk. She's certain the Swan woman is having nagging doubts about this camaraderie just as much as she is. 

In some ways it's been a long time coming, and in others it's creeping up on them too quickly. Not even a year ago they'd been constantly at each other, trying to gain the upper hand, with Henry in between them like the rope in a tug of war. 

After the curse had broken, Regina had been certain that Emma and her idiot parents would stop at nothing to destroy her. Imagine her surprise when Emma not only came to her defense against the citizens and against her parents, but outright shielded her from harm. 

Regina thinks that's when everything changed between them. But before she could blink, Emma was gone and so was her insufferable goody-two-shoes of a mother. And while she felt relief at being rid of Snow for a time, when Emma's abrupt disappearance caught up with her, she felt... oddly sad. Like she had failed, somehow. 

Now that she was back, Regina wanted to put her best foot forward. Henry believed in her, however fleeting that belief seemed at times, and she wanted to be a better person for him. And the first step had been making nice with the other mother in the picture. 

The lunches they've shared thus-far have been pleasant, with just enough of an undercurrent of their usual banter that Regina didn't feel it was too forced. The invitation she'd extended to Emma had come out before she could think about it, and it threw them both off-kilter. 

She's certain Mary Margaret has already tried to talk her out of it. Probably with several reminders of just how terrible a person she is. But clearly it hadn't been enough to sway Emma, who is now squaring her shoulders and striding up the walkway toward the house. Regina heads down to meet her and swings open the door before she's even had a chance to knock. 

She smiles, and the answering expression from the blonde is something akin to panic. 

_This could be fun._

"Emma," she greets her, and though it feels a little odd to be calling her by her first name, it slides out easily; like old friends getting together to catch up. 

If possible, Emma looks even more nervous. But she plasters on a brave smile and returns a simple, "Hey." 

Tipping her head cordially, Regina steps aside and swings the door open wider, telling her, "Come in." 

"Thanks," she mutters, and shoves her hands in the pockets of her jeans as she walks past. 

Regina closes the door behind them and turns to look at Emma, who's now looking around her foyer as if she's never been here before. Then, she watches her gaze narrow toward the kitchen. 

"Something smells good," she comments, and turns to face her. 

Regina smiles once more, thoroughly enjoying how downright taken aback the Swan woman looks every single time. She'll have to make a point of smiling much more often. "I thought I'd throw in a lasagna for dinner," she replies. 

Emma nods, hands stuffed in her back pockets now. She looks so awkward and out of place despite how many times she's been in this house (regardless of her presence being welcome or unwelcome). She wonders if maybe her invitation really _was_ forcing things a bit too much. 

"I gotta admit, I never did get a chance to try your lasagna at Granny's - it went so fast." 

"Yes," Regina nods. "It did." And none of those ingrates had bothered to thank her for her contribution - they just gobbled it down and made snide remarks about poison and curses. 

She feels the frown settling in before she can stop it, and when she looks up, she sees Emma physically try to make things better - it comes off as a slight, apologetic wince as she says, "I'd love to get another chance to try it." 

What she's doing is both painfully obvious _and_ awkward, but she appreciates it all the same, nodding slightly as she tells her, "I'd like that." 

"Great," Emma smiles, and Regina smiles back. 

Perhaps this 'friendship' concept will actually be a success. 

** 

They eat together in the dining room on opposite sides of the table. When she and Henry eat together, she sits at the head and he sits beside her - but tonight, she feels doing so could come off as some sort of 'dominance' thing, and for Henry's sake she wants Emma to feel as though they're on equal footing. 

Several times, she notices Emma looking around at all the décor - the white walls and black finished tables and centerpieces and wall hangings; again, as if she'd never seen the room before. 

They're mostly quiet during the meal, though Emma does break the silence several times with the scraping of her fork (while Regina tries not to wince at the damage it's undoubtedly doing to her china) and comments about how great the lasagna is. She drinks a beer while Regina sips at a glass of red wine, and she hides a smile and a murmur of gratitude in her glass each time Emma compliments her cooking. 

Afterward, Regina invites her to the study for an after-dinner drink and instantly flashes back to the first time they met - two tumblers of scotch, initial pleasantries, and then the mention of a book that immediately set an adversarial tone in their relationship. She'd never admit it aloud, but the Swan woman had gotten under skin within those first ten minutes. 

All twenty-eight timeless years in Storybrooke, Regina had worn a mask -- she had several, depending on the occasion. There was the polite, the professional, the mayoral and the motherly. But when Emma Swan strode in and started talking about fairytales, Regina felt all of her masks slip away from her -- and for a year, she's been unable to pick them up again. 

At least, not when _she's_ around. 

Emma can somehow see straight through her, a notion that's maddening as it is fascinating. They've become familiar with one another, and yet somehow, leading Emma into this room again, it feels like they're back at the beginning. 

She watches her blue-green eyes sweep over the furnishings in this room and she knows what she's thinking -- what a difference from the rest of the house. But that's how Regina likes her study: rich mahogany finishes, deep crimson drapes with burnt orange sashes, warm sofas and a crackling fire. 

An explosion of autumn in a house otherwise occupied by winter. 

"Have a seat," Regina tells her, and is pleased when Emma complies, sitting down on the same couch she'd taken up on that first night. 

She goes over to her small bar and pulls the top off her decanter of scotch. She pours a bit into one tumbler and offers the blonde, "Another beer?" 

"Actually," Emma sweeps a hand toward the scotch and says, "I'll have whatever you're having."

She can't help the smirk, nor can she help the teasing tone of her voice. "You're certain? The last time you had some of this," she lifts her glass, "the town signage suffered." 

Emma rolls her eyes. "I think I can handle it this time." 

Regina fills a second tumbler halfway. "You seem capable of handling quite a bit, I must say," she sighs, handing Emma one of the glasses as she takes her own to the ornate wing-back chair across the coffee table. She crosses her legs and sees Emma watching the motion before examining her own poor posture. 

The blonde straightens accordingly and answers, "I used to think so." 

Regina lifts a brow in intrigue -- quite an atypical comment from a woman usually so confident it's borderline arrogant and annoying. So it begs the question, "What changed?" as she swirls her glass of scotch and watches the whirlpool of amber liquid in front of her. 

She looks up when she hears Emma sigh and sink back against the sofa. "I came here," she shrugs. 

Regina just tilts her head expectantly, and she continues. 

"I killed a dragon, broke a curse, got sucked into some magic portal inside a hat, and..." Furrowing her brows, she looks up. "Have you ever been almost trampled by an ogre?" 

Regina nearly laughs, instead pursing her lips in amusement around another sip of scotch before she replies, "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure." 

Emma's eyes widen slightly. "Well it's a trip." 

"Emma, I'm sorry," she apologizes, and it's so sudden, the blonde almost chokes on her drink. 

"Huh?" 

Regina stares down into her glass, mouth set in a thin line while her eyes contemplate the drink in her hand. She doesn't know what the hell is happening to her. If there's one thing everyone knows about Regina Mills, it's that she is unapologetic to a fault. And yet this is the second time she's said she's sorry to Emma Swan, in the span of a few weeks. The first had been outside the diner -- when she'd snapped at her about her mothering skills and her visits with Henry had been dangling in the air like a threat between them. 

"I'm sorry," she says again, and she wonders if it looks like she's apologizing to the scotch. 

Emma sets hers down on the table separating them, and for once Regina doesn't have the urge to grab for a coaster. "For what?" 

"For letting you get sucked into that portal. I know you won't believe me when I say this, but," she looks up slowly, hoping her eyes are sincere. "I had every intention of pulling you back." 

Emma's expression fleetingly says, _The hell you did_ , before she covers it. 

"You did?" 

Regina nods, taking another gulp of scotch. There's a thin layer left in the glass now, and she rises for a refill. "It happened so fast, and..." She shakes her head, mouth carrying on without her brain's interjection, "I was still so shocked over what happened between us that I just... couldn't move." 

Emma looks dumbfounded for a split-second, and very much like a deer in the headlights for another. But she keeps a calm exterior. "What do you mean?" 

Having finished refilling her drink, she advances toward the couch and Emma visibly startles, scooting back a bit. Regina takes a seat on the end, legs tucking up demurely at her side. There's a safe distance between them, but Emma still looks like a frightened animal. Why, she can't even begin to guess. 

"I couldn't get that damn hat to work," Regina sighs in exasperation, remembering just how frantic she'd been in the courthouse. "I spun it, I concentrated with all of my might and I had nothing." She shakes her head. "Not a spark, not a flicker of magic, nothing." 

Emma nods back, eyes seemingly looking through the coffee table, and Regina imagines she's reliving the moment as well -- the panic they all surely felt with the wraith so near. Even though she had been the only one with its mark claiming her skin. 

"And then, you touched me," she goes on, sipping on scotch and feeling it flow over her tongue, smooth and rough at the same time. She lifts her eyes and for a second she could swear Emma had looked spellbound. "You touched my arm, and it was so..." 

She trails off, searching for the right word. Magical? Obviously. Intense? Certainly, though it felt like so much more at the time. 

As she searches for the right term, she watches Emma tip her head back, draining the rest of the scotch in her glass and muttering, "I think I need some more." 

The mumble is just evasive enough that Regina gives up on what she was about to say. An invitation to dinner was one thing, she knows. Discussing this... thing... that they very pointedly have not discussed, was another entirely. So instead, she watches Emma get up to refill her glass and the silence is excruciating. 

After a moment, Regina shakes her head. "Anyway. I suppose it would be inappropriate to continue talking about this. It's over and done with now." 

Emma makes a face, and Regina thinks she's attempting to be reassuring, though the expression comes off as more of a grimace. "Nah. It's only inappropriate if you make it that way." She shrugs, and her tone changes as she offers, "Like if you said I had a 'magic touch.'" 

Regina splutters on her drink, hardly expecting the comment. The scotch heads down the wrong pipe and she coughs, resting a closed fist against her breastbone. 

Emma looks scared and a little regretful, as if she'd just made things worse, and then Regina can't help it - she starts to laugh. She can tell it throws Emma for a loop, but it's beyond her at this point. She just has to laugh. 

It's all so absurd - the comment, the subject matter, the fact that it's the two of them, here, talking to each other and eating dinner together, trying for a friendship -- she just has to laugh.

Emma laughs back, dipping her head briefly before she too shakes her head at the absurdity of it all. 

"You're right," Regina agrees once she's recovered from the coughing fit. " _That_ would be inappropriate." 

Things get a little less excruciating from there. 

** 

The evening ebbs into night and the two of them barely notice. They slowly make their way through a little bit more of her scotch, filling one another in on what each of them missed while Emma had been in whatever was left of Regina's old land. 

"So Henry has a horse now?" Emma raises her brows, sounding accusatory. 

Regina raises her hands by her shoulders, relinquishing responsibility. "Don't look at me, that was your father's idea." She shakes her head, clasping her hands around her right knee, crossed over the left. "You mean Henry didn't tell you?" 

"No, he didn't even mention it." 

Regina nods, eyes cutting to the side thoughtfully a moment while her lips purse once again. "I can understand why he didn't. After what he went through at the stables, I imagine he'd want to forget about it." Raising her brows ruefully, she sighs to herself, "And he's not the only one." 

Emma frowns at that admission, leaning in just slightly. "What happened?" 

She draws in a breath, twisting the ring on her finger. She turns her gaze to the coffee table, still able to feel Emma's eyes analyzing her, as she thinks back on that day. The polarized emotions that threatened to splinter her in half - pure elation at seeing Daniel again, and the agony of seeing what had become of him after Whale's experiment. 

But the feeling that quickly usurped her joy and terror was concern for her son. She had remembered the promise she'd made to him, not to use magic, but for his safety she had to take care of Daniel. 

She feels a lump rising in her throat as she remembers the hollowness that filled her as she prepared to do away with him. How he had told her to love again before she turned him to dust. 

She looks up at Emma again, seeing the expectancy in her stare. For some strange reason, Regina actually _wants_ to tell her. She hasn't mentioned that day in the stables to anyone, not even the idiot prince after he relentlessly needled her to tell him what she had to do. She hadn't wanted to tell him.

But there's a part of her that really wants to tell Emma. 

Instead, she checks her watch; she raises her brows and sighs, "That, I'm afraid, will have to wait for next time." Meeting her eyes, she tells her, "It's eleven-thirty." 

Emma's eyes widen. "Seriously?" 

Regina nods, nearly as surprised as Emma. Did they really just spend six hours together without bickering, without wanting to strangle or punch one another? It's a first for them, certainly. Lunches together were one thing - those never lasted more than an hour. And stopping by to cure a computer virus, or bumping into one another at the grocery store didn't exactly qualify as time spent together. This -- six hours together without wanting the other person dead -- is a big step. 

Regina rises to her feet, heart still fluttering at the memory of her time at the stables, and she smooths imaginary wrinkles in her clothes. Emma's eyes are still on her even as she stands up with her. 

"Regina, what happened at the stables?" 

_Nothing._

_Everything._

She dips her head, fists clenching. She sees Daniel's face in her mind's eye, his stricken features and cold, vacant eyes. She pushes his image away and relaxes her fingers; she sighs and lifts her head with a flick of her hair, meeting Emma's eyes. "That's a... very long, very complicated story. One that I'm afraid we don't have time for tonight." And she heads for the door. 

But Emma doesn't budge, though Regina already expected as much -- she's the most stubborn person she's ever encountered. She dares to think that Emma's stubbornness rivals her own. She opens the French doors of the study and leans against one of them as Emma beseeches her, "Why don't you tell me the short and simple version." 

Regina quirks a brow and purses her lips, fighting the urge to tell the blonde that where Daniel is concerned, the story can never be short or simple. Instead, she replies, "Doctor Whale brought Daniel back from the dead and I had to make him disappear." 

Predictably, Emma fires off the next logical question. "Who's Daniel?" 

She checks her watch again. "It really is getting late, Emma. Knowing your mother, she'll show up here any moment, certain that I've done something terrible to you." 

Emma rolls her eyes, smirking. "Nice try. Come on, you and I both know that Mary Margaret isn't that parano--" 

A knock on the front door cuts her off, and both women turn to look at the source of the noise. Emma looks confused as they both head for the door. Regina gets there first and swings it open, and there's Snow -- fist cocked in preparation to knock again. 

Her eyes settle on her daughter and she breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh thank God." Her petite hand presses to her heart. "Emma, there you are." 

Regina flashes a painfully fake smile at her before turning over her shoulder to face Emma, quirking her brow and hoping it screams _I told you so._

Emma shoots her an answering look that seems to say _Shut up, Regina,_ and then she addresses her mother. "What are you doing here? Everything okay with Henry?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, Henry's fine, it's just..." She trails off, and Regina can't help enjoying the way Snow is warily eyeing her. Not to mention, the nervous way she fidgets and shifts on her feet is enough to make her laugh. 

Almost. 

Snow picks up the train of thought where she left off. "It just was getting late, and you hadn't come back yet, so I thought--" 

"That I turned her into a toad?" Regina offers, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. 

Snow glares at her and Regina doesn't miss the smile Emma tries to suppress, though it goes unseen by her mother. 

"Sorry, I just--" 

"It's fine," Regina sighs, and even to her own surprise there's no venom in her tone. "We were just calling it a night." 

"Oh." Snow looks more than a little taken aback by the cordial response, and looks to Emma. "I-I walked. Could I ride back with you?" 

"Sure." 

Regina meets her eyes and can clearly see the conflict there. Emma has burning questions, and Regina knows the next time they see each other she'll be asking away. She blinks slowly, just barely quirking her lips in a friendly smile to let her know that she's not completely closed off to answering them. 

Then there's a moment of awkward stumbling over how best to say goodbye. Regina sure as hell is not about to hug the Swan woman, nor does she wish to receive a rabbit-punch to the shoulder -- Emma seems the type to do such an unfeminine thing. 

And they're too familiar with one another for handshakes. 

"Uh..." 

Finally, Emma seems to settle on lightly squeezing her arm in the usual spot -- just a quick, firm clasp above the right elbow. 

It's a little strange acknowledging the fact that Emma Swan has a 'usual spot' for exchanging contact with her, but that's what it's always been. When Henry had been trapped in the mine, she grabbed her arm. The same way she grabbed her when Gold had tied her to a chair in the library. And it was that very same spot she grabbed that revived Regina's magic and turned the hat into a portal. 

Her eyes are glued to the spot where they've connected even as she feels Emma's eyes on her. When her hand finally retreats, Regina looks up and meets her gaze. What she says next surprises them both: 

"We should do this again." 

Snow looks downright horrified at the notion, but Emma gives her a smile. "Yeah, we should. We still have some catching up to do." She points at her and says with a raised brow, "Don't think I'm gonna forget about that." 

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm familiar with your badgering, yes." 

They leave things up in the air and say goodnight, then Emma heads out the front door. Snow lingers a split-second longer, looking at Regina in confusion before following after her daughter. 

As they head down the walk, Regina watches them go and overhears Snow: 

"So you two are actually kind of... _friends_." 

Emma's chuckle, and her reply of, "Yeah, I guess we sort of are," is the last thing Regina hears before she closes the door, leaning back against it as she turns the bolt and smiles to herself. 

"Friends," she murmurs aloud. 

The word tumbles through her brain and somersaults around her stomach as she heads up to bed.

 

**TBC**


	3. Niceties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s not sure if it’s because she’s still got questions only Regina can answer, or if she actually feels _bad_ that Regina looks so damn sad every time she says goodbye to Henry. Whatever it is, it makes her blurt out, “Let’s meet for drinks tonight.”

***** 

On the drive home from Regina's, Mary Margaret is animated. She fires a round of questions at Emma, looking a cross between shock and trepidation. She wants to know what they did. What they talked about. Did Regina make food? And if she did, was Emma feeling okay? 

“We talked! About a lot of things. She made lasagna, and yes I feel fine. It was delicious. Then we went to the study for drinks and talked some more.” A thought strikes her as she turns on to Main Street, and then she can’t help asking a question of her own. “Hey, who’s Daniel?” 

Judging by the way Mary Margaret whips her head to look at her, Emma thinks that if she’d been holding something fragile it would have shattered on the floor. Or if she’d been drinking, there would have been a spit take. Either way, her expression is straight-up crazy. 

She responds in a hushed voice. “She told you about Daniel?” 

“Not really. She mentioned him, and I asked, but...” She shrugs. “She never elaborated.” 

“Oh.” 

Emma watches her mother briefly. “Did you know him?” 

She nods, casting her gaze to her lap. “Briefly,” she replies, and it’s quiet in a way that tells her whoever Daniel is, he didn’t get a happy ending in their fairytale world. 

They don’t say another word for the rest of the ride home.

 

***** 

The next time she and Regina “hang out,” it’s on a Saturday afternoon. Henry had stayed at Regina’s overnight on Friday, and when Emma goes to pick him up, he opts to finish his comic book in his room. 

So she wanders out to the backyard, where she finds Regina in her garden, trimming hedges. She’s wearing jeans and a casual blouse, work gloves on her hands as she wields a small handheld clipper. What tops it all is the hat upon her head, scarf keeping it in place tied under her chin. Emma can’t help the chuckle that escapes. 

“So this is how the Mayor of Storybrooke dresses up on a Saturday.” 

Surprisingly, Regina does not roll her eyes. She turns to her and smirks. 

“Never known you to be judgmental of one’s fashion choices, Sheriff.” 

Emma’s the one to roll her eyes, though she doesn’t hesitate to join her at the hedges, stooping briefly to grab the other, slightly larger, pair of clippers. “Need some help?” 

“Please.” 

They work in silence for a few moments, Emma occasionally eyeing what Regina’s doing to make sure she’s following suit. The hedges have a carefully squared-off shape, and Regina snips any branch that dares to venture outside the overall shape. So Emma moves down a few feet and starts snipping off protruding branches herself. 

“Have a nice time with Henry?” 

“Mmhmm,” Regina smiles with closed lips, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her, and it’s a sound of content. “A very nice time, yes. I’ve missed having him here.” In seconds, that smile is turned on her. “Thank you.” 

Emma nods. She’d been wanting to make things up to Regina for the way she’d reacted outside Granny's at the welcome-home party. It was obvious Regina missed her son, and if she was really trying to turn herself around, well... maybe having Henry nearby more often would speed up the process. 

“He misses you too, y’know.” 

Regina sniffs - it’s a short exhalation through the nose, a mirthless near-chuckle. “I don’t know about that.” 

“I do. He really sees that you’re trying to make a change. I think he appreciates that. Plus...” She shrugs, hating to admit to herself, “You’re the only mom he’s known for most of his life. Just because I’m around now doesn’t mean he stops loving you.” 

Regina purses her lips, eyes shaded behind the large sunglasses she wears. “Certainly seemed he stopped loving me for awhile there.” 

“You know what was going through his head, Regina.” 

“I do.” 

They fall silent for several moments more. Regina resumes her clipping and Emma follows. Thoughts churn in her head, of everything they’ve gone through. The book and Operation Cobra and evil queens and princesses and lost family members finally found, and it’s a lot for even _her_ to process. She can’t imagine what it would’ve been like for a ten-year-old. 

“Things are different now,” she hears herself telling Regina, and the sound of snipping stops a few feet away from her. 

“They are,” Regina agrees after a moment, and the snipping sounds resume. “You saved everyone from me. You fulfilled Gold’s little prophecy.” 

Emma’s breath hitches in an almost painful way. Is that really how she sees it? 

“I meant... with the three of us,” she explains, not wanting to get into the whole ‘curse’ thing again. “You and me and Henry.” She sighs. “Henry knows you’re not evil and so do I.” 

“And everyone else?” 

Emma shoots her a look - it’s wry and her tone is a little sarcastic, but there’s an undercurrent of sincerity there that she hopes Regina picks up on. “The Regina I know doesn’t give a crap what anyone thinks of her.” 

“Well...” Regina turns her eyes back to the hedge and snips off a couple last branches before tossing the clippers on the grass. “Maybe just one or two people.” 

“Henry?” Emma asks, already knowing the answer as Regina nods. Then, she can’t help herself. “Who’s the other?” 

Emma furrows her brows, trying to decipher the expression on Regina's face, when Henry comes bursting out the back door, drawing their attention. 

“Finished!” he announces, stuffing his comic book into the backpack he’d brought with him. 

Regina smiles at him and Emma looks back at her, figuring her question is one of many that will have to be answered some other time. So she turns back to her son. 

“Ready to head out, kid?” 

“Yeah.” 

He sidles up to her and her arm drapes over his shoulders, the two of them facing Regina. Regina smiles at her son, but Emma can see the sadness in her eyes. 

“I’m really glad you could stay over, Henry,” she tells him, and it’s obvious she doesn’t want to let him leave. 

“Me too.” 

Emma draws her gaze, assuring her, “Why don’t we talk about you taking him again in a couple weeks.” 

Regina nods, swallowing whatever emotion had bubbled up having to say goodbye to her son. “Sure, yes. That sounds lovely.” 

Henry says goodbye to his adoptive mother, arms around her waist in a hug that Emma can tell is all-too-brief for Regina’s liking, before he breaks away and heads for the front door. 

Emma watches him go, uncertain as to why she feels the need to linger. “So...” 

“So.” 

Another look is exchanged. Regina’s face betrays nothing, and Emma feels like she might be frowning in confusion. 

“Something the matter?” Regina asks. 

Yeah, something definitely is. She’s not sure if it’s because she’s still got questions only Regina can answer, or if she actually feels _bad_ that Regina looks so damn sad every time she says goodbye to Henry. Whatever it is, it makes her blurt out, “Let’s meet for drinks tonight.” 

And what's surprising is not Regina's acceptance, but the minimal hesitation and sun-bright smile that comes before it. 

So when she gets to the car, Henry's leaning against it waiting for her and raises an eyebrow. "Where were you?" 

"Just talking to your mom for a sec." 

He looks up at her as she unlocks the door for him, taking his backpack from his hand and flinging it into the backseat. "Are you guys actually becoming friends?" 

She shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe. I think so." 

After they've both climbed in and she's starting the engine, she looks over at him and asks, "Why? Is that okay?" 

"Yeah." He shrugs back. "I mean... I don't know how good she'll be at it. I don't think she's ever really had any friends. Even back in her old land when she was the queen. I think she's kinda used to being alone." 

"Well, maybe it's about time we change that, huh?" She smiles, and even though she knows this whole endeavor is not going to be easy, Henry's answering smile reminds her why she's doing it.

 

***** 

They agree to meet up at The Rabbit Hole rather than the diner, Regina's reasoning having been that she doesn't feel like repeating the awkwardness of the not-so-welcoming welcome home party. Not that Emma can blame her. 

So Emma gets to the bar just before seven and doesn't spot Regina's Mercedes anywhere. She does, however, spot a car with a glass wolf charm dangling from the rear-view mirror. And sure enough, when she goes inside, there's Ruby at one of the pool tables, shooting with a couple of the guys that work at the auto shop. She thinks she's seen Ruby with one of them before. 

"Emma, hey!" Ruby spots her and waves excitedly, handing her cue to one of the guys before running over for a hug. "What are you doing here?" 

"Oh, I'm just meeting someone for drinks." 

Ruby's eyes light up. "Ooh, like a date?" 

Emma smirks. "No, not a date. Regina and I are hanging out tonight." 

At that, the barmaid's face falls. "Regina? _Why?_ " She sounds almost horrified at the idea. 

She shrugs. "Because we're trying this new thing where we _don't_ hate each other." 

Ruby nods. "Archie says she's trying to change. I think it's a load of crap, but..." She trails off with a shrug. 

Emma quirks a brow, remembering Regina's none-too-pleased expression when she revealed what Archie had said to her. Not to mention Archie's passing remark about an argument he and Regina got into the next day. 

"Well..." she finally sighs, "I think maybe Archie needs to honor that confidentiality thing a little more, but nonetheless... yeah. Regina _is_ trying to change. And I've seen it with my own eyes." Softer, she tells the brunette, "Maybe you should give her a chance sometime." 

That's when Regina strolls into the bar and all activity stops. People are looking up from their drinks and their conversations, shocked that the 'evil queen' is in their midst. 

And Regina can clearly sense the abrupt shift in atmosphere and stops in her tracks, hands in the pockets of her long coat. She looks around at everyone and Emma wonders if even the jukebox has ground to a halt. 

But then Regina averts her eyes, people resume conversation, and Emma looks to Ruby. Ruby nods her understanding and attempts a friendly tone when Regina reaches them. "Hey Regina." 

"Wolfie," Regina huffs, still flustered by the reaction to her entrance. 

Emma throws an apologetic glance at Ruby, but it goes unseen as Ruby rolls her eyes and excuses herself under her breath, returning to the billiard tables. 

She lightly touches a hand to the sleeve of Regina's coat. "Hey, quick suggestion? Maybe, uh... be nicer to people?" 

Regina glares. "Did you see the way they looked at me when I came in? What good will come of niceties?" 

Emma sighs. "I dunno, but being a jerk isn't gonna do you any favors either." 

They each grab a stool at the bar, and Emma hangs their coats on the nearby coat tree before sitting down. She orders a beer and Regina orders a glass of wine, still glancing furtively at the bar patrons, who are watching her with the same sense of apprehension. 

Then she shakes her head, looks down at the bar and picks at the flimsy cardboard coaster, muttering, "I don't know why I bother to leave the house anymore." 

"Stop," Emma tells her, nudging her arm lightly. She gives her a reassuring smile. "They'll come around eventually." 

"You broke the curse six months ago, and this is still the reaction I get." 

"Well in all fairness, Regina?" She raises her eyebrows, clasping her beer bottle between her hands. "You cursed them for almost thirty years. You really think it's only gonna take a few months for everyone to get over that?" 

"I'm trying to change!" she responds, almost whining like a child outraged at the injustice of an early bedtime. 

Emma leans in a little bit and nudges a little bit harder, emphasizing her point as she tells her, "Then _show them_." She shrugs. "Ruby said 'hi' to you, trying to be nice, and you blew her off." 

Regina rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then takes a sip of her wine. Her murmur is barely audible as she replies, "Good point." 

Emma smirks to herself, kind of liking this side of Regina. She jokingly cups a hand around her ear and says, "Sorry, it's kinda loud in here. Can you repeat that?" 

Regina doesn't even blink before sassing back at her, "Just shut up and drink your beer." 

** 

After the beer, Emma moves on to a Jack Daniels and Coke while Regina upgrades to a martini. The conversation starts to flow a little more easily and she can tell Regina's beginning to relax. Some of the patrons still eye her warily as they pass by to use the restrooms, but for the most part she just ignores them. 

"So when are you gonna tell me what happened at the stables?" Emma asks, already feeling like her tongue is thicker than normal. The Jack and Coke must be strong... 

Regina smirks, pursing her lips as she delicately sets her martini glass on the coaster. "Depends. When are you going to stop badgering me about it?" she quips, giving her a sideways glance. 

"Never," Emma chuckles, enjoying the way Regina laughs quietly to herself before taking another drink. 

"Come on, just tell me. You know you want to." 

She shakes her head. "I really don't. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the most open, touchy-feely person in town." 

Emma rolls her eyes. "Since when is answering a simple question touchy-feely?" 

"It's complicated," is the response she gets yet again from Regina. 

"You said that last time." And she tries nudging her again. "Come on, Regina, we're friends. You can tell me." 

At that, she sees Regina's spine straighten. "Friends?" Then she shakes her head. "I don't ever recall agreeing to a friendship - I thought I agreed to a camaraderie." 

She thinks that maybe it's supposed to be a joke, but something about Regina's flippant tone rubs her the wrong way. She can feel herself tensing, can feel the words stinging. 

The Jack and Coke was definitely too strong. 

Because she can't help what she does next. She presses her lips together and sighs, "Y'know what, Regina?" 

Regina looks up at her expectantly, and Emma gets off her bar stool. 

"You're right." Reaching into her wallet, she grabs enough money to cover her tab. "We're not friends. Friends talk to each other and trust each other. We don't do that." 

Regina looks like she wants to say something, maybe to take back the flippant comment, but Emma doesn't feel like allowing her to do so tonight. 

Tonight she feels like she's trying too hard to reach out to someone that's unreachable. Tonight she wants to go home and forget she invited Regina out in the first place. Tonight she thinks maybe Regina had a point: _Why bother with niceties?_

So once the bartender takes her money, she grabs her jacket off the coat tree and pulls it on, flipping her long hair out from under the collar. She can see Regina opening and closing her mouth, trying to come up with a response. Just as she can see Ruby over by the pool tables, watching them interact every few seconds. Then she tells Regina facetiously, "Enjoy the rest of your night," and storms out. 

What she doesn't see is the regretful way in which Regina hangs her head, now sitting alone at the bar.

 

**TBC**


	4. Amends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her day has barely started and already she's in a foul mood. What's worse is that her mood is entirely her doing and cannot be blamed on anyone else.

***** 

It is with much effort that Regina steps into Granny's diner the next morning. Her day has barely started and already she's in a foul mood. What's worse is that her mood is entirely her doing and cannot be blamed on anyone else. She's been berating herself since Emma stormed out of the bar last night. 

She hadn't meant what she'd said. At least, she doesn't think so. She knows that what they're aiming for is friendship, but the thought is still more than a little alarming. She's never had a friend. Kathryn Nolan had called her that a couple times, but the friendship was always more one-sided than anything else. She appreciated Kathryn's company on the rare occasions they'd get together, but they never really knew much about each other. And the main reason she'd cultivated that relationship to begin with was simply to keep an eye on David and Mary Margaret. 

When the bell above the diner door jingles, signaling her entrance, everyone turns to look. Regina steels her jaw and bites back the urge to tell them all to take a good look, instead heading up to the counter. Ruby is already there, serving an omelet to a hungover-looking Leroy. She sets her purse on the counter and Ruby reaches her before she sits down. 

"What can I get ya?" she asks, grabbing for her pad of paper and short red pencil. 

"Coffee black to go, please," Regina tells her, and watches her nod before she turns around to grab the coffee pot and a to-go cup. 

She thinks back to her short outing with Emma, and the ever-so-brief encounter with the woman now fetching her coffee. She thinks of Emma's comment: _"Ruby said 'hi' to you, trying to be nice, and you blew her off."_

Then she sits up a little straighter, calling out, "Ruby?" 

The girl turns and meets her eyes, brows lifting briefly. 

"I'm sorry." 

The confusion that takes over her face in that instant is almost amusing. "Huh?" 

Regina tilts her head and pushes past her pride, continuing. "For last night. When you said hello to me, I snapped at you, and... I'm sorry." 

"Oh!" It takes several more seconds for her to blink away the surprise, but eventually she waves away the apology. "Don't worry about it, really." She turns to put a top on the to-go cup of coffee, then turns back around with a smile, adding, "But thanks... for apologizing."

Regina presses her lips together in a tight, polite smile. "Sure." Taking the cup of coffee from the girl, a thought strikes her, and she looks up again. "What type of beverage do you suggest I bring to someone to make amends?" 

Ruby smirks. "Booze." 

She can't help but give a rueful half-smile in return. "If only it weren't eight in the morning." 

"Right?" Ruby sighs, then shrugs her slender shoulders and leans on the counter. 

Regina looks at her. And she has no idea why, but something about the girl's expression drags the information out of her. "I recently said something to someone... a friend... and I think it upset them. I'd like to make amends for that by bringing them something to drink." 

"Ah." At that, the girl pushes off of the counter and leans back. "Well I guess it kinda depends on the person. I would try to bring them their favorite drink." 

"Right." Regina nods, and then realizes all at once that she has no idea what Emma Swan drinks during the day. Water? Soda? She hardly seems the type to drink tea, and she doesn't recall ever seeing her with a cup of coffee. 

While she's trying to guess, Ruby brings her another to-go cup. Regina looks down at it and then up at her in confusion. 

She gives her a half smile. "Hot chocolate with whip cream and a dash of cinnamon. It's Emma's favorite." 

Regina opens her mouth to ask her just how she knew, and Ruby cuts her off with a shrug. "I saw her leave the bar last night." 

"Oh." Regina keeps staring at the second to-go cup, a little dumbfounded, and then reaches for her purse again, having only put down enough for the coffee. "Uh, how much do I owe you for the hot chocolate?" 

Ruby wrinkles her nose and shakes her head, meeting her eyes. "It's on the house." 

And when Regina looks up to question her, the girl just gives her a slight smile, one that she can't help returning. Perhaps Emma had a point about the niceties.

** 

When she gets to the Sheriff's station, it's almost eight-thirty. She contemplates just letting herself in with her key, but not long after the thought crosses her mind is when Emma rolls up. 

_This is stupid_ , her brain taunts her as she reaches for the hot cocoa. _There's no point in trying for this ridiculous friendship - just pitch the cup and go._

But she forces herself out of the car, and meets Emma face to face as she's heading toward the door. 

The look she gets from the blonde is somewhere between annoyance and ambivalence as she grunts out her trademark colloquial, "Hey." 

She sounds neither thrilled nor disappointed to see her, and Regina trudges forward. "Hi. Um..." Almost nervously, she extends the to-go cup of cocoa. "Here, I-I got you this." 

Emma looks down at it, then back up at her. "Why?" 

She certainly was not going to make this easy on her. Not that she deserves it, but still. She was a queen once - shouldn't that earn her at least a modicum of respect? 

"To say I'm sorry." 

Emma nods, and lifts the cup briefly in a facetious toast. "Apology accepted," she huffs in a way that tells her the conflict is nowhere near resolution. "Excuse me." And then she brushes past her. 

A protest lodges in Regina's throat and again she's torn between trying to fix things and throwing her hands up in the air in defeat. Emma's almost to the door when she decides. 

"I'm not a good friend," she blurts out. 

The admission is enough to get the blonde to stop. Regina watches the back of her head as it tips down to look at the cup in her left hand. Then, slowly she turns, stoic expression still in place. "What?" 

_You shouldn't have to do this - make a fool of yourself apologizing to Snow's spawn. You're better than this._

"I-I'm not a good friend," she says again, hands in her coat pockets now as she steps forward. 

Emma quirks an eyebrow, her voice dipping into her trademark uninterested drawl as she returns, "I thought we weren't friends." 

"I shouldn't have said that last night. I'm sorry." She takes another step forward. "You were right, though. Friends trust one another, and are open with one another. You and I do neither of those things." She thinks of a young princess with flowers in her hair and the telling of a secret that ends with a dead body in the stables. Then she swallows hard and says, a bit roughly, "I-I don't trust very easily." 

Emma studies her, her expression softening a bit. "Why not?" she asks quietly. 

Regina hesitates over how best to respond, that vengeful corner of her brain spitting out, _Because your mother couldn't keep her mouth shut_. Outwardly, she starts slow. "It's, um... it's--" 

"Complicated?" Emma offers, quirking a brow. 

It would be so easy to bite something back at her in this moment. To just glare and snip, _Why don't you divulge your deepest darkest fears and regrets and tell me how easy_ that _is._ Instead, she takes a breath. She lifts her head and admits, "It's the most complicated part of who I am... who I've become. I wasn't always like this." 

Emma's thin lips tip into a frown. She shifts her weight on her feet and switches her cup of cocoa from one hand to the other. "We've all got a past, Regina. We've all got baggage." 

Her lips quirk. "Yes, well. I believe the sheer volume of my own would be enough to open a luggage store." 

A look of surprise flickers on Emma's face before she laughs. Regina can't help but chuckle back. 

"Fair enough," Emma tells her. "God knows I've got plenty of my own too." Sighing, she adds, "And I don't trust very easily either. Before Henry, I never tried to get close to anyone." 

Regina nods, expecting as much. She's always pegged Emma as the cut-and-run type. "So then... surely you could understand my slip-up last night." 

Slowly, the blonde draws in a breath. She lets it out on a sigh and nods, dipping her head. "Yeah. I was probably a little too harsh on you, and..." She looks up again. "I'm sorry." 

Regina tips her head, expression of gratitude silent. "I guess we both have a little work to do." 

"Yeah, I guess so." Then, Emma looks over her shoulder, at the doors to the Sheriff's station. "Well, I should probably get inside." 

"Right. Of course." 

She's not entirely sure where they've settled right now -- it appears that Emma is no longer upset with her, but aside from that, what are they to each other? 

Ultimately, Regina decides to let it lie for the time being, and she turns to go back to her car. She's no more than a few steps away when Emma calls her name. 

"Regina!" 

She whirls on her heel to face her once more. 

Emma raises her brows and then winces, hopeful and then apprehensive all within the span of five seconds. "The deli, at noon?" 

Regina smiles. "I'll be there."

 

***** 

The next month-and-a-half passes with only a few snags in the tenuous friendship between she and the Swan woman. Her visits with Henry have increased, to the point where she and Emma have basically worked out a "joint custody" agreement of sorts. Henry spends his weeknights at the loft with Emma, and then weekends at the estate. The arrangement seems to work for all three of them. 

She still meets Emma at the deli for lunch on a weekly basis, and the atmosphere of those lunches have relaxed considerably. Occasionally they talk business since she's been unofficially reinstated as mayor, but mostly they keep the topics light. 

Regina still hasn't talked about that day at the stables, nor has she revealed to Emma who Daniel was and what he meant to her. Luckily, Emma hasn't brought up either subject. 

"These fries should be illegal," Emma tells her, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over them. 

Regina looks up to watch the blonde sweep one of her fries through the puddle of ketchup on her plate, weaving the fry through the air like a ship bouncing over ocean waves. Then she consumes the entire thing in one bite, and Regina curls her lip. She's such a child sometimes. 

"Well you're the Sheriff," she sighs. "Arrest them." 

Emma raises her eyebrows and grabs another deep-fried monstrosity. "I'm gonna. And then I'll send them to jail in my stomach." She bites down, her grin severing the fry in half. 

Regina rolls her eyes, hoping it masks her amusement as she drawls, "You're completely obnoxious." 

"Whatever," Emma chuckles, "Don't pretend you don't get a kick out of it." Then, she leans on the table with both elbows and forces Regina to bite back the urge to remind her of proper table etiquette as she suggests, "Let's hit the Rabbit Hole tonight." 

"Looking for a repeat of last time?" Regina asks, spearing an olive in her salad. 

This time it's the blonde rolling her eyes. "No. Trust me, it'll be fun this time." Then she quirks her brow in a challenge, teasing her, "Unless you've got something better to do?" 

And Regina willingly takes the bait. 

** 

They meet up at seven at The Rabbit Hole, and the usual crew is there -- the dwarfs and several of the blue-collar types from the auto shop and the docks. As per usual, they all turn to look when she enters the dimly-lit dive, only this time Regina doesn't give them the satisfaction of looking self-conscious. No. Instead, she makes a beeline for the bar, where Emma's already waiting with a beer in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. 

"Nice of you to show up," she quips, that wry drawl and half-smirk serving as her greeting. 

"I'm only," she checks her watch, "Twelve minutes late." Off Emma's look, she straightens and lifts her nose in the air haughtily. "A queen occasionally likes to make an entrance." 

Emma grins at that and rolls her eyes, handing over the glass of wine. "Whatever you say, Your Majesty." 

Regina shoots her a look that quickly dissolves into a smirk, and she takes the glass. "Merlot?" she asks, lifting the glass slightly. 

Emma tips her head. "Of course," and they sit together at the bar. 

This time there are no needling questions, no jabs and misinterpreted comments. It's... well, she hates to admit it, but it's nice. It's the two of them, enjoying each other's company. Regina tells her a few stories about when Henry was little, and Emma looks both happy at hearing them and sad that she hadn't been present to experience them herself. Regina's not sure if it's satisfaction she feels over that or sorrow. 

A few drinks later, she and Emma are having a fabulous time. Emma's regaling her with tales of the last time she'd had to arrest Leroy for drunk and disorderly conduct, and Regina is doubled over in laughter. Her stomach hurts from the sheer amount of laughter, her tongue feels fuzzy from the two glasses of wine and one scotch-and-sodas she's had, and Emma is thoroughly enjoying the attention. 

Her nose crinkles every time a burst of laughter escapes, and it only serves to make Regina laugh harder. She's never had such a wonderful time. The other bar patrons volley between their conversations and watching the two of them as if they're escaped mental patients. 

Time passes in a blur and soon the bartender is leaning toward them, slinging a dish towel over his shoulder and telling them, "Last call, ladies. Can I get you anything else?" 

"No," Regina replies, reaching for her wallet through bleary eyes. "This will be fine, thank you." 

She's in a splendid mood, and even the bartender looks surprised at her demeanor. She hands him a few paper bills, hoping it's neither too little to cover their bill nor too much to leave an absurd tip, and she turns back to Emma just as her hand finds her knee. 

"Regina..." 

She meets Emma's eyes, her own trying their best to focus on just seeing one blonde sheriff rather than two. 

Emma smiles. "At least let me pay for my five beers." 

Regina shakes her head, waving dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I pay your salary, remember? I can afford it." 

The blonde chuckles in response. "Fine, but I'm paying next time." 

"As you wish," Regina sighs, and realizes belatedly that the 's' consonant has become somewhat difficult for her to get out. 

Once their tab is paid, there's only one logical thing left to do: say goodnight and see one another again when Emma drops Henry off for the weekend. 

Instead, Regina finds herself saying, "Come back to my place for one more drink."

 

**TBC**


	5. Tilt-a-Whirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together.

***** 

Emma and Regina make their way back to the mayoral estate on foot, both of them a little too tipsy for driving. The wind whips around them on their way back and they button their coats tightly, clinging to one another's arms for balance along the way. The cracks in the sidewalk trip them up, quite literally, more than a few times. They burst into a fit of the giggles every time, and this is a side of Regina she's never seen before. 

When they arrive at the estate and rush inside, their cheeks have reddened from the cold, hair disheveled from the wind. Jackets are tossed haphazardly aside, and Emma figures Regina must be pretty far gone to not insist that they're hung up properly. 

They land in her study and Emma flops backward on the ornate sofa, staring up at the ceiling as it tilts and spins. She hears a clinking of glass on glass and props herself up on an elbow, watching Regina pour them each a scotch. 

"Oh I probably shouldn't," she slurs. After five beers, and... she thinks maybe there was a rum and Coke in there somewhere... she should not be having another drink. 

"Nor should I," Regina sighs, and brings the glasses to the couch. She gives Emma's foot a nudge with her knee and says, "Scoot," prompting Emma to make room. 

Then they're sitting on the couch together, clinking glasses in a silent toast. Emma brings the glass to her lips, trying to focus on it and finding herself going cross-eyed. A sip of scotch burns a path down to her stomach and she sits back with a sigh, closing her eyes. 

When she opens them, it's to find Regina with her head leaning back on the couch. Her lips are pressed together tightly and she swallows. Emma thinks she can actually see it roll down her throat and disappear beneath her collarbone before she hears Regina sighing. 

"This reminds me of when Henry was nine." 

Emma takes another gulp of scotch and asks, "You got drunk a lot when he was nine?" 

Regina laughs, eyes closed with a hand laying over them briefly, and Emma giggles back. Regina shakes her head, never moving it from the back of the couch as it turns toward her. "No. It reminds me of when we had a carnival and he begged me to take him on the Tilt-a-Whirl." 

"Tilt-a-Whirl's awesome," Emma tells her, slumping down on the couch. 

"Perhaps for a two-minute ride," Regina chuckles, "Not when your entire world is tilting and whirling." 

"What, you've never been drunk before?" she whips her head to look at her and instantly regrets the motion. It takes a moment for Regina's image to swim back into focus. 

"I've been pleasantly buzzed, but... never have I felt like this." 

Emma laughs, sidling closer. "Well this is what drunk feels like. Glad to be the one to show you the ropes." 

Regina gives a full belly laugh at that, and Emma can't figure out why, though it probably doesn't matter. 

When they've finished the scotch, they're closer than ever on the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and Emma is doing her best to stay upright. They're watching the fire -- which is weird, because Emma doesn't even remember when Regina started one -- and just sitting silently together. 

After a long moment, Regina breaks the silence. "So this is friendship, huh?" 

Emma looks down at her. "Sorta, yeah. I guess. I've never had many close female friends." 

"No?" Regina tilts her head up to meet her eyes but leans too far back. She slumps against the couch and starts to laugh again. 

Emma laughs back, shaking her head. "You are _so_ drunk, this is kinda hilarious." 

" _You're_ drunk," is the less than elegant comeback she gets, and she nods in agreement. 

"Yep, I am." 

Another sigh escapes the brunette and soon Emma feels a weight on her thigh -- Regina's head has made it a pillow. Sable hair is sprayed across her jeans, and Emma reaches out, feeling drawn to it. She runs her fingers through Regina's hair and watches her eyes slide closed in response. 

It hits her in her bleary-eyed stupor that this is a tremendous step for them. Regina never looks vulnerable for anyone ever, excepting maybe Henry, and yet here she is with her head in Emma's lap and eyes closed. It's a display of trust that she had never expected. 

"Regina?" 

"Hmm?" 

She rakes her hands through the thick, shiny locks again. "...Nothing." 

Regina's chest rises and falls slowly, and Emma wonders if she's starting to pass out. Then she says softly, in a voice thick with alcohol and drowsiness, "You want me to tell you about Daniel... don't you?" 

Emma smiles, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes, the blackness behind her lids spinning and tilting as well. "Mmm," she just barely nods. "When you're up for it." 

And those are the last words they exchange for the night. 

** 

When Emma comes to again, it's light out. The fire has been reduced to a few last glowing embers, and everything around her is swirling violently. With a grimace and a groan, her eyes slide closed again and she attempts to swallow. Her tongue is thick and dry, and when she attempts to lift her head, the sheer weight of it forces her down. 

Her forehead lands on the couch cushion and her hands brace on the arm. She groans again in a way that sounds like two voices. 

That's when she feels a body shifting against hers. She knows it's Regina, and wants to lift her head in a greeting, but she thinks it's roughly the weight of a boulder, so instead she settles on a grunt. Her neck is killing her from sleeping upright, and she's more than a little certain she'll be puking soon. 

Regina groans again, and this time Emma gathers enough strength to push herself up. Regina is lying face-down on the couch, a hand pressed against the top of her head as she shakes it back and forth slowly, probably damning herself for getting drunk in very much the same way Emma is berating herself. 

"Oh God," she sighs gruffly, voice muffled by the couch. "I'm dying." 

Emma chuckles, groaning at the pain she feels a moment later, and pushes herself up further to reach for her friend. "You're not dying," she tells her. "You're hungover. Maybe still a little drunk from last night." 

"God," Regina groans again. She drags a hand over her face, and then looks over at Emma slowly. Her makeup is smudged and her hair's in complete disarray. It's the most messy she's ever seen Regina look, and it's kinda pretty great. "Is there any alcohol left in Storybrooke, or did we drink it all?" 

"There's plenty more where that came from," she sighs, and rolls off the couch to get to her feet. Her stomach rolls dangerously and she clamps her lips together until the wave of nausea passes. Then, she extends a hand to Regina. "Come on."

"No." Regina flings an arm over eyes dramatically, rolling onto her side as she begs, "Just leave me here to die." 

"Drama queen," Emma grins, and it's with some effort that she actually grabs a hold of Regina and helps her to her feet. 

The two of them cling to one another for balance, much more desperately than they had last night, and one look in Regina's eyes tells her that she's feeling just as ill. "You should go upstairs and go to bed." 

"So should you," Regina tells her, then grimaces at her choice of words. "Not with me, you understand, but--" 

"I got it," she nods, though she can't help enjoying the new shade of pink taking over Regina's face. "And don't worry, I'm outta here once I get you upstairs. I still have to get my car from the Rabbit Hole." 

Regina makes a noise under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse word. "Mine is still there too, isn't it?" 

"If we both haven't been towed by now, yeah." 

There's a lot more groaning and a little more nausea as she and Regina slowly make their way up the stairs. The highlight of the entire trip upward is when Regina glares at the banister in disgust and asks herself aloud, "Why must there be so many stairs here? It's a nuisance." 

They're nearly to the master bedroom when Regina's arm suddenly lurches out and grabs the door frame of the bathroom. "One moment," she says, and then rushes over to the toilet. 

She barely lifts the lid in time and then Emma has to look away, the sound of retching causing her stomach to pitch violently. She grabs her abdomen and groans, "Oh God," before she too has to rush. 

She makes it to the sink, fingers digging in to the granite counter top as her stomach empties itself in waves. Her hair falls in her face as she slumps against the sink and she moves to toss it back. 

As she does, she feels a second set of hands in her hair, pulling it away from her face. It's in the nick of time as another wave hits her and she retches into the sink again. When that wave passes, she slumps down again, and a hand on her waist picks her up, guiding her over to sit on the edge of the tub. 

Emma watches Regina through blurred vision as she rinses the sink thoroughly and flushes the toilet. Then, the brunette rinses her mouth and splashes water on her face before turning around, leaning back against the counter and gripping it for dear life. 

"How much more of that can I expect?" she rasps, laying a hand over her stomach. 

Emma shakes her head. "Hopefully not much more." 

Regina nods and pushes off from the counter, reaching for Emma just as she reaches out to her. Their hands clasp together tightly, supportively, and together they walk to the master bedroom. Regina crawls into bed fully-clothed and as she gets under the covers, Emma brings the trash can to her side. 

Lying back against the pillows, Regina asks her, "You're certain you can make it home? You're welcome to sleep in Henry's room for awhile." 

"Thanks for the offer," Emma tells her, and hopes she knows that she really means it, "But I think I'm okay. I'll call you later, okay?" 

Regina grunts in understanding and then rolls onto her side. Before she leaves, she remembers to grab a small cup of water and a couple of aspirin, leaving them on Regina's bedside table. Then Emma heads downstairs and out into the morning, softly shutting the door behind her as she hopes that this experience hasn't soured their newborn friendship.

 

***** 

It's barely seven o'clock when she oozes through the door of the apartment, hoping not to wake anyone up. She squints against the sunlight and shuts the door as quietly as she can. 

"Where have you been?" a voice immediately hisses, and the assault on Emma's eardrums is enough to get her to close her eyes and hold up a hand. 

"Stop yelling at me," she tells Mary Margaret, who's already buzzing around her like a hyperactive hummingbird. 

"Emma, I'm whispering," she hisses again, "Now where have you been?" 

"Out," is all she can say, her hands fumbling for the stairs so she can sit down and take off her boots. 

She looks up to see Mary Margaret standing over her clad in her bathrobe, her petite fists planted on her hips. "Out? With who?" 

Emma grimaces, stomach still churning a little as she answers, "Regina." 

Her mother leans down to her, then immediately steps back, waving a hand in front of her face. "You smell like a brewery! Are you drunk?" 

She shrugs, feeling like a teenager caught out after curfew. "I don't think so. Not anymore, at least." 

Mary Margaret looks less than pleased -- which, for her, means furious. She points toward the other room. "I want you to get in there and go to bed before Henry wakes up and realizes you've been out all night. And change your clothes." 

"'Kay," Emma grunts, not in the mood to argue, and does as she's told. 

** 

The next time she wakes up, she no longer feels as if she's on a Tilt-a-Whirl. Now all she feels is pain. She groans and tries to sit up. The mattress dips in an unusual way, and it takes her a moment to realize there's someone beside her. 

"Morning," she hears, and this time it's no longer the angry hiss of Mary Margaret. The tone is deeper, and a little amused. 

"David?" 

"Here." He hands her a cup of water and she drinks gratefully. The entire glass is drained in a matter of seconds and he gets up to get her a refill. 

When he returns, he's smiling at her. "How are you feeling?" 

Emma closes her eyes and accepts the second cup of water he hands to her. "Look, if you're here to read me the riot act, Mary Margaret already beat you to it." 

"I know she did. That's not what I'm here for." Shrugging, he pushes the sleeves of his flannel shirt up to his elbows and sits beside her again. "I just wanted to check on you." 

"Oh. Well... thanks." She sips at the cup of water, a bit slower this time to make it last. 

"So, I take it you and Regina had a good time last night?" 

She chuckles into her glass. "Until the hangover kicked in, yeah." 

He nods. "I can imagine." 

"Where's Henry?" 

"Your mother took him to the park, and then grocery shopping. They won't be back for awhile." With a shrug, he adds, "I thought it could buy you a little extra recovery time." 

Emma grins despite the pain it induces, teasing him, "You've got a 'Coolest Dad Ever' award comin' your way, buddy." 

David chuckles, glancing down at his lap. When he looks up, the smile remains but his tone changes slightly. "Look, Emma... you know your mother is having a difficult time with your new, um... friendship." 

"Really? She hides it well," she quips, taking another drink of water. 

"She'll come around. She and Regina have, to say the least, an incredibly complicated past. I'm part of it, but it's bigger than that." 

Emma quirks a brow. "Any of that have to do with a guy named Daniel?" 

She watches the color drain from David's face. "Regina, she... she told you about Daniel?" 

At that, she can't help throwing her hands in the air. "What is the deal with this Daniel guy? Every time he comes up, people act like there's a ghost in the room!" 

David sighs, some of the color returning to his face. "I'm probably not the right person to ask. Mary Margaret has said very little. What I do know is that whatever happened to him is the reason there's so much bad blood between she and Regina." 

She nods. "I kinda figured. And no, Regina hasn't told me about him, but... she will eventually." 

He raises his eyebrows, sighing, "I hope she does. She needs a friend to open up to. Someone that can help her get rid of the demons she's hung onto for all these years. I think that will really be the key to getting her on the right path." He lightly touches her arm. "For her sake, I hope that someone is you." 

And Emma smiles behind tired eyes, feeling the words in every bit of herself as she says, "I hope so too."

 

**TBC**


	6. Candor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina watches her turn to leave, and an unusual sensation bubbles to the surface. She feels her brows knitting together, and her stomach performs an unfamiliar tumble. She speaks before her brain has a chance to catch up. “Why don’t you stay for dinner.” 
> 
> The surprise on the Swan woman’s face is evident, and even Henry looks up at her to see if she’s serious.

***** 

After their escapades at the Rabbit Hole and then her house, it's a few days before she and Emma see one another again. When they do, she's dropping Henry off for the weekend; he races inside and goes straight up to his room to drop off his things while they linger in the doorway. 

Emma quirks one eyebrow as if to say, _"Do you still want to associate with me?"_

Regina contemplates letting her dangle, but ultimately gives in and smiles at her. Maybe she's gone soft. "Come in." Teasingly, she adds, "Can I get you a drink?" 

"Ugh." 

She relishes the way Emma looks physically ill at just the thought of consuming alcohol. She smirks. "Perhaps just some iced tea, then." 

"Sure," Emma chuckles, and they head together toward the kitchen. 

Before Regina opens the refrigerator, she pulls down the oven door to check on the cookies she’s got baking. “Almost ready,” she murmurs to herself, then closes the door and reaches into the cupboard for two glasses. 

Emma sounds incredulous as she asks, “You’re making cookies?” Then, she can hear the grin in the blonde’s voice without turning around. “Tofu soy veggie cookies, right?” 

“Peanut butter.” Regina can’t help but roll her eyes, the smile on her lips betraying the annoyance in her tone. “I do allow him _some_ indulgences.” 

“Really? Because you pretty much made me get rid of all the fun stuff I was gonna pack for his lunches.” 

“For his school lunches, yes.” She inclines her head, pouring them each a glass of iced tea. “I do not believe children should have their lunches packed to the brim with sweets and processed foods. Those items should be a treat – not a daily requirement.” 

Emma leans on the counter with her folded arms. “So I _am_ allowed to give him kid stuff sometimes.” 

“In moderation, certainly.” 

With a wry smirk, Emma accepts the glass she extends. “Good to know.” 

Regina smiles at her over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip, and their gaze breaks when Henry comes bounding into the room. 

“You made cookies? Awesome!” 

Her heart swells at the excitement on his face, and she reaches out to ruffle his hair. When she looks up, she sees that Emma has witnessed the motion and takes that as her cue to leave. 

“Well, I should get going. I’m on graveyard tonight at the station, so…” 

Regina watches her turn to leave, and an unusual sensation bubbles to the surface. She feels her brows knitting together, and her stomach performs an unfamiliar tumble. She speaks before her brain has a chance to catch up. “Why don’t you stay for dinner.” 

The surprise on the Swan woman’s face is evident, and even Henry looks up at her to see if she’s serious. 

Emma takes a step forward. “Really?” 

Her brain yells at her to take it back – she gets so little one-on-one time with Henry as it is. “Really. I made quite a bit of food,” she reasons, and smiles at her son before looking up at Emma once more. “More than what Henry and I can eat, so… you should stay.” And she nods once, as if that will make the decision for the blonde. 

She watches as Emma and Henry look at one another, exchanging a silent conversation. Her slow-rising eyebrows and questioning pout of the lips meets Henry’s shrug of an answer. Then, she meets her eyes again and smiles. “Sure. Thanks.” 

** 

Dinner is pleasant between the three of them. Henry is thoroughly excited to have both his mothers at the same table, and Regina allows him to sit at the head this time, while she and Emma sit across from one another. 

Both Emma and Henry fidget with their salads, mannerisms nearly identical as they push their forks around on their plates. _So that's where he gets it_ , she thinks as she watches Emma. The blonde notices her stare and so Regina very pointedly looks at the salad, then back up at her, silently challenging her to set an example. 

Unseen by Henry, Emma rolls her eyes, but leans forward and makes a valiant effort. She spears a forkful of spring mix and dressing and grimaces at it before placing it in her mouth. Regina smiles at her, pleased, and Emma rolls her eyes again and begins to chomp savagely on the greens. 

Henry's giggle beckons their attention, and he's watching the blonde raptly. Emma grins, pleased that at least _someone_ finds her entertaining, and prepares to do it again. 

One swift kick from Regina under the table is enough to get her to stop, and she resigns herself to eating like a lady the rest of the meal. 

After the salad, Regina brings out a baked chicken and her best homemade mashed potatoes, distributing them evenly. This time, Henry and Emma are happy to dig in, and waste no time cleaning their plates. Once they've finished, Henry clears the table as he always does, and heads into the kitchen to wash dishes. 

Emma watches him go, throwing an impressed glance her way. "He did that without asking." 

Regina nods. "That's been among his chores for years." Taking a sip from her water glass, she purses her lips and adds, "He doesn't necessarily enjoy it, but I've told him that once he's old enough to cook an entire meal, I will do the dishes afterward." 

Emma smirks. "Makes it a pretty sweet deal for you right now, huh?" 

She chuckles. "I've never minded washing dishes, but... after cooking, it's a nice break." 

"I bet." Raising her brows, she sighs. She blinks slowly, and when she looks up the expression on her face is sincere. "You're a good mom, Regina."

The words are so unexpected, her stomach tumbles. "I am?"

Emma nods. "Never would've admitted it to your face a year ago, but... yeah. You're a _great_ mom." Shrugging, she gestures around the room. "You've given him a wonderful home, you taught him how to be polite, you're not a pushover and you make him eat good things..." She shakes her head. "When I gave him up, it was really hard. But I wanted him to have this kind of a life. And, I knew I couldn't give that to him."

Regina finds herself stunned by the blonde's candor. She grips her water glass so tightly she fears the crystal might snap in her hand. Her eyes well with emotion and she blinks it back. "Well. I don't know what to say, except... thank you." Off Emma's smile, she adds, "And... being a mother isn't innate. God knows I didn't grow up with an ideal mother."

"I didn't grow up with _any_ kind of mother," Emma sighs, "So I had nothing to go off of."

Regina nods, swallowing the lump in her throat borne of knowing that Emma's upbringing is her fault. Something she never felt bad about until now. "You would have learned. Just as I had to. It's just something you pick up along the way. All of this is."

"Even the cooking?" Emma smirks. "Wish I knew how to cook like this." 

Regina smiles. "Even the cooking. It simply takes practice." Silence falls over them momentarily, and they exchange glances every few seconds. 

The air is heavy with tension and things left unsaid -- things they've never discussed, things she's never felt the need to apologize for before. Then, she raises her brows, hoping to break the tension. "Do you mean to tell me that you're giving our son cereal for dinner?" 

She rolls her eyes. "Mary Margaret does the cooking." And with that, the tension passes.

Then, Emma takes a sip of water and looks up, her expression a cross between confusion and amusement. "Did you just call Henry 'our' son?" 

"I..." She thinks for a moment - _did_ she? She hadn't meant to. "I guess I did." 

"Well." Emma looks thoroughly pleased, and the sight doesn't irritate her as much as it used to. "I'm impressed." 

Regina smiles. "I must be learning to share." And she raises her water glass in a pseudo-toast to herself. 

Emma laughs and clinks their glasses together. "Nice job." 

They each take another sip, brown meeting blue over the rims of their glasses, and the only sound that can be heard is the running water and occasional clanking of dishes from Henry in the kitchen. 

She's now willing to share her son with Emma Swan -- she never thought she'd see the day. Not only that, but she's inviting the woman over for dinner during her time with Henry, and actually enjoying her company. She feels like she should tell her so. 

"I must say," she murmurs, sitting back in her chair. "Spending time with you isn't nearly as painful as I expected it would be." 

_Close enough._

Surprisingly, Emma laughs, setting her glass on the table. "Well, thanks. Hanging out with you isn't exactly unbearable for me, either." Then, she glances at the clock. "Unfortunately, I should get going. Technically, my shift started ten minutes ago." 

"Oh." Regina throws a glance behind her, unaware of how much time had passed. "Yes, of course." 

Emma gets to her feet and Regina rises with her, calling over her shoulder toward the kitchen, "Henry, come say goodbye to Emma. She's leaving." 

The water shuts off in the kitchen and soon Henry comes bounding around the corner, looking cautious. "Uh-oh, did you guys start fighting?" 

Emma smirks and Regina gives him a look. "No, we did not start fighting. She needs to get to work." 

"Oh. Okay." He makes his way around the table, launching himself at Emma's midsection. 

She hugs him back, sweeping a hand through his hair, and Regina meets her eyes. "Thanks for dinner," she says. Another kind of gratitude sparkles in her eyes, for their earlier candid conversation. 

Regina nods, hoping the sincerity comes through in her tone. "Certainly." 

Emma nods back and pulls away from Henry, squeezing his shoulder. "I'll see you on Sunday, okay?" 

"Okay." 

And then the blonde is heading for the door, Henry walking after her. Regina can't help but follow, another unusual sensation sitting in the pit of her stomach. For some strange reason, she wants to see her again. "E-Emma?" she stammers, just as the front door opens. 

Emma pauses, turning back to look at her. 

Regina takes a step forward, fighting with herself. This whole friendship thing between them is stupid and nice and confusing and a thousand other adjectives. Not to mention, tonight they've ventured into territory neither one of them bothered with before. She thinks maybe she needs some time to assess the situation. Instead, she says, "Why don't you come by this week. I could teach you how to cook, if you'd like." 

Emma blinks momentarily, and Regina hopes she's as confused about their relationship. Whether she is or isn't, she smiles and tells her, "Thanks, Regina. Sounds great. See you Sunday." 

Regina nods, and watches the blonde hug her son one more time before heading out the door. When she's gone, Henry turns to look at her. "That was... weird." 

"What?" 

"You guys. Being nice to each other." 

"Well, we're becoming friends. What's so weird about that?" 

Henry gives her a look, and she smiles ruefully, tilting her head in understanding. "Henry, I know that last year was difficult for you. It was for all of us. I did some things that I'm not proud of, and... I'm sure Emma feels the same." 

He winces a bit. "Still kinda weird." Then, he shrugs. "I guess it'll just take a little getting used to." 

Regina chuckles, ruffling his hair. "For all three of us, yes." And it's true - this abrupt turn in her relationship with Emma will be an adjustment for all three of them. 

She and Emma are still adjusting to _not_ being at war with one another, and she's certain it will take awhile for Henry to adjust to the fact that his mothers are no longer fighting over him all the time. 

But the way he beams at her helps to reassure her that, no matter how confusing or tense it will be at times, no matter how big an adjustment, it will all be worth it in the end. 

 

**TBC**


	7. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first part is easy enough. She and Regina chop vegetables side-by-side in the kitchen. They open the wine halfway through and toast to Emma's first cooking lesson. The atmosphere is pleasant and light, and no mention is made of the heavy topics they discussed the last time they were together.

***** 

On Sunday when Emma returns to the mansion, Regina's happy to see her. It's still an unusual sight -- Regina beaming at her and inviting her inside. But Emma decides to enjoy it while it lasts. Sure they're friends now, but they'll get tired of each other eventually, or revert to their old ways. It's kinda inevitable. 

But for now, Regina smiles when she sees her and it's kinda nice. She heads inside and Henry is upstairs getting his things together. 

"I was wondering if you were free for that cooking lesson tomorrow night?" Regina asks, offering her a glass of lemonade. 

Emma passes on the lemonade, but accepts the offer for the cooking lesson. "Yeah, tomorrow sounds great. David's got the night shift at the station, so that'll work out perfect." 

"Wonderful!" Then, Regina heads to the fridge and grabs a thin strip of paper. "Here's your list." 

Emma groans, looking over the list of groceries, in Regina's distinctive scrawl. "Aw man, I have to go shopping?" 

Regina rolls her eyes. "Not to worry, dear, I'll be supplying all the cookware and spices that we'll need. I would just like you to bring the vegetables for the pasta." 

Her brows raise in appreciation. "Pasta, huh?" 

Regina hums her affirmation. "Is that alright?" 

"Yeah, that's great. Maybe I'll take Henry shopping on the way home." On a whim, she suggests, "Hey, why don't I bring a bottle of wine tomorrow." 

Regina looks thrown off for a second, blinking a few times, but then she nods, another smile making its way out. "Sure, yes. That sounds lovely." Then, in her usual bossy tone, she tells her, "Make sure to bring white. It will complement what we're eating." 

Emma smirks, rolling her eyes, "Sure thing, Your Majesty." 

 

***** 

The next day, Emma arrives promptly at five, struggling to hold on to the paper bag of groceries with one hand, while the other is busy trying not to drop the bottle of wine. After a big of juggling, Emma gives up and knocks with the toe of her boot. 

It takes a bit before Regina reaches the door, and she's all but lost her grip on the groceries when it finally swings open, greeted by Regina's soft, "Oh!" 

Then their hands touch as she passes the bag off; Regina hefts it in her left arm and flicks her hair out of her eyes with her right. 

Emma exhales a grateful smile. "Just in time." 

"Indeed." Regina turns and heads for the kitchen. Emma's invitation inside is now silent, apparently. She's not sure whether to be alarmed by that or relieved. 

She follows Regina to the kitchen and it looks like the contents of her cupboards have exploded. Her usually-immaculate counter-top is now scattered with cutting boards, mixing bowls, pots and pans. Small containers of spices and an olive oil drizzler are scattered within the mess, and Emma can't help but raise her brows at the sight. 

Then the brunette clears enough space at the edge of the counter to set the bag of groceries down, standing on tiptoe to peer inside. Whatever she sees, she smiles in approval. "Looks like you got everything," she says, and looks up at Emma with a smile. "I'm impressed." 

Emma smirks, taking off her jacket and draping it over a nearby chair. "I _can_ follow directions, you know." 

"Mmm." Lifting one perfectly-defined eyebrow, Regina returns the smirk. "History would beg to differ." 

Emma folds her arms, grinning. "Well that was before. Before, it was fun to defy you and piss you off." 

"And now?" Regina asks, cocking her head, and the implication is clear. 

So Emma softens her smile. "Now, I like that we get along." 

"Good." She seems genuinely happy about that, but before Emma can wonder what that means, the moment is over and Regina is all business. "Now - first things first, you'll need to put something on over your clothes." 

"What, like a hazmat suit?" she quips. 

Regina purses her lips and bends down to another cabinet, pulling out a couple of cloth items. "No. An apron will suffice." 

"Oh." Emma takes the item from Regina and looks it over - it's oddly floral and girly, even for Regina. 

As if able to read her thoughts, Regina's deadpan snark hits her. "I realize something so feminine is beyond your grasp, but don't worry - I'll help you with it in a moment." 

Emma glares, though her glare meets Regina's grin as she snaps open the folded apron with one hand and slips the knot over her head, tying the sashes at her waist behind her. The movement is fluid and fast; she realizes Regina has probably done it dozens of times before. And then it leaves her wondering how often Regina is home alone here in her apron, cooking and baking things for a son she rarely sees anymore. 

For some reason, the idea makes her kind of... sad. This house is so incredibly big, and so cold. The idea of Regina being here, all alone with no one to talk to... well, it's not a fun one to think about. 

"Something wrong?" Regina's voice draws her from her thoughts, and she looks up to meet her eyes. She's leaning on the counter, head tilted and eyes showing faint concern. 

Emma nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. Was just thinking." 

"Ah." Regina makes her way around the counter to where she's standing, taking the apron from her hand and snapping it open. She slips the top knot over Emma's head and gives her a little grin as she teases, "I imagine that hurts you, hmm? Thinking?" 

"You know, I could just leave right now if I wanted to," Emma tells her. 

"You could," Regina agrees with a small nod. Her hands find Emma's hair and sweep it out from under the knot of her apron before she slinks behind her. Then she whispers in her ear, "But I don't think you want to." 

Emma stays stock-still and startles slightly when she feels Regina's hands on her lower back, knotting the sashes for her. And, wait a minute... did Regina just _flirt_ with her? Or was she teasing? Either way... "You got me there," she sighs, and turns over her shoulder to watch Regina finishing a bow at her lower back, patting it once when she's done. 

"There!" Regina steps back, proud of her work, and then returns to the other side of the counter. "Ready to cook?" 

Emma plasters on her best enthusiastic smile. "Ready as I'll ever be, I guess! Let's do it." 

** 

The first part is easy enough. She and Regina chop vegetables side-by-side in the kitchen. They open the wine halfway through and toast to Emma's first cooking lesson. The atmosphere is pleasant and light, and no mention is made of the heavy topics they discussed the last time they were together. 

Emma manages not to cut her finger or Regina's while they chop vegetables, but Regina's bamboo cutting board acquires a few extra gouges that weren't there before. When that's finished, Regina brings a saute pan over to the stove and fires up one of the burners, drizzling olive oil in the pan. Once it warms, she directs Emma to bring over all the freshly-chopped vegetables, and together they dump them in the pan. 

"Now here's the tricky part about sauteing," Regina instructs, and takes a sip of white wine as she stirs the vegetables with a wooden spoon. "You want to get the vegetables soft with a little bit of brown, but not burn them." 

"No burning," Emma nods, "Got it." 

"The key is to adjust the temperature as needed." Lifting the pan, she shows her how to turn the flame down. "See what I'm doing?" 

Emma can't help but throw her a look. "I know how to work a stove, Regina, but thanks for the vote of confidence." 

"Alright." Regina holds up her hands after setting the pan down. "I was going at this assuming you had zero experience. Can you oversee the rest of the sauteing process then?" 

She shrugs. "I guess, sure." 

"Great. I will begin working on the pasta." 

And believe it or not, Regina actually has a pasta maker. It's insane. So she starts throwing stuff together to make pasta, and Emma stands there staring. "Uh... y'know, you could've just told me to pick up a box of linguine or something." 

"Where's the fun in that?" Regina asks, quirking a brow. "Besides, there's nothing like fresh, homemade pasta." 

"When the hell, in between being the mayor and being a mom, did you learn how to do all this stuff?" she can't help asking, one hand on her hip and the other braced on the counter. 

Regina's smile softens, and Emma regrets asking a few seconds later as she replies, "You find you have a lot of time on your hands when you have no friends." 

Oh. Crap. "Regina, I didn't mean--" 

"It's alright," Regina replies, the look in her eyes kind of sad as she shakes her head. "I know you didn't mean anything by it." 

She goes back to making pasta and Emma watches, studying the lines around her eyes now. She gets them when she's sad or upset, and right now Emma has the weirdest pang in her stomach. She wants to take those lines away. 

So she makes her way around the counter, watching Regina prep the dough to go in the pasta maker. She sidles up so quietly, Regina doesn't notice until she's standing right next to her. Then, she startles, and gives Emma a 'what the hell?' kind of look. 

Emma's expression remains solemn, sincere, and she reaches out a hand. It covers Regina's, sitting on the counter. "You know that's not true anymore, right?" 

"What?" Regina's eyes bounce back and forth between hers. 

"That you have no friends. It's not true." She gives her hand a squeeze and tells her, "You've got me." 

To her surprise, Regina squeezes back, twining their fingers and shaking their interlocked hands lightly as she smiles. "Thank you." 

And for a moment they just smile at one another. Emma thinks of everything they put each other through last year and how different things are between them now; how they went from hating each other to actually enjoying each other's company. And then, what she does next is instinctual. 

Maybe it's because of Henry. Maybe Mary Margaret and her affectionate tendencies have had an effect. Whatever it is, Emma finds herself reaching out and tentatively hugging Regina. It's light, and she barely touches her for fear it's going to... who knows, maybe send her flying into a magical rage. And then she just waits for Regina to push her away. 

Instead, she feels Regina's hands on her back. She feels her take a step in. And then they're just honest to God _hugging_ , and she thinks it's the craziest thing she's ever done. Sure she's killed a dragon and climbed a beanstalk with an eyeliner-happy pirate, but this is still the craziest -- standing in the kitchen of a former queen, the woman she tried to destroy all of last year, just freaking _hugging_ her. And the worst part is that it actually feels good. 

Warmth spreads all over her chest, and her scalp tingles a little when Regina's fingers catch in the ends of her hair. She feels the push of Regina's chest against hers as she breathes in and then sighs out, stepping back. 

Regina's smiling at her, though her brows crinkle lightly in confusion as she says, "Thank you, Emma, I... I think I needed that." 

"You're welcome." 

One more smile is exchanged, then they return to their respective duties -- Emma heads to the stove to check on the vegetables while Regina finishes up with the pasta. 

 

***** 

All-in-all, her first time cooking is a success. She only managed to burn a few of the veggies, and Regina had taken care of the rest -- boiling the pasta, chopping the parsley, and then throwing the veggies and olive oil in with the cooked pasta. So granted, she didn't do much, but she still considers it a success. 

"Next time, I'll show you how _I_ cook," Emma tells her, draining the last drops of wine from her glass. 

Regina chuckles. "Oh? And what does that involve?" 

Emma grins. "Calling the pizza place." 

Regina rolls her eyes. "A culinary delight, I'm sure." 

"Just you wait." 

"I can't say I've ever had the pleasure of eating that greasy mess." 

At that, Emma's eyes almost bug out of her head. She waves her arms in the air, "Whoa... whoa, hang on a minute." She stares at Regina incredulously. "You've never had _pizza_?!" 

Regina shrugs, swirling her wine glass in front of her. "Should I have?" 

"Uh..." She can't believe what she's hearing. No wonder Henry ran to Boston looking for her. "It's only the best thing _ever_." 

Regina takes a sip of her wine and sets the glass down, then gets up to collect their dinner plates. "Isn't that a little bit of hyperbole?" 

"No. It's not." And Emma's not _completely_ sure what hyperbole means, but it probably means exaggerating. "I mean it actually _is_ the best thing ever." 

With a sigh, Regina takes their plates to the kitchen, and Emma follows. "I suppose I'll have to be the judge of that, won't I?" 

She can't help the grin. "Yeah, you will." 

She helps Regina clean up after dinner, taking over the task of scrubbing the dishes while Regina stands by to dry them. By the time they're finished, she glances at the clock and decides she should head home. But it's weird... she kinda doesn't want to. 

"Guess I should get going," she sighs, and Regina glances at the clock too. 

"I suppose," she sighs back, and it kinda sounds like Regina doesn't want her to leave either. 

With a smile, Emma tosses the dish rag in the empty sink and heads to get her things. 

"Em..." Regina calls after her, and Emma stops in her tracks, slowly turning on her heel. 

"Did you just call me 'Em'?" 

"I did," and Regina looks bashful for a moment, dipping her head. "I meant to say 'Emma.' I'm sorry." 

She waves off the apology. "I don't mind a nickname. I'll call you tomorrow, uh... Reggie?" 

Off Regina's sharp glare, she raises her brows. "No to 'Reggie,' for you? No problem, we'll figure out something else." 

Regina chuckles. "Goodnight, Emma." 

Emma gives her a wave over her shoulder and says, "Call ya tomorrow!" 

And she finds herself smiling all the way to the car.

 

***** 

The next day, she decides to surprise Regina by picking up a pizza - a large pepperoni, just to start her off. She hadn't wanted it to be too bland, like cheese, nor did she want to scare Regina off with a full-on "garbage" pizza. 

She rings the bell at the mansion, holding up the pizza box with her fingertips like a delivery girl. When Regina swings open the door, she grins. "Look what I got!" and she heads inside without waiting for an invite. 

Regina watches over her shoulder, shutting the door and following her to the kitchen. "What _is_ that? I can smell the grease from here." 

"I know," Emma sighs, setting the box on the counter and flipping open the lid, "Isn't it a great smell?" 

She doesn't miss the way Regina's nose wrinkles. "Not particularly." 

Emma gives her a nudge. "C'mon, quit being a snob. Also!" She points toward the door. "I brought beer, and movies. I thought we could have a night in." 

Regina raises her eyebrows, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "As opposed to last night, when we painted the town red." 

She shrugs, playing it off as no big deal. "Alright, fine." She shuts the lid on the pizza box. "I'll just take this home with me then, and leave you to your--" 

"Em." Regina's hand clamps over her wrist, and it's the second time in just as many days that she's bestowed the nickname of sorts upon her. "You're welcome to stay." 

"Okay." She gives her friend a smile, and nudges her once more. "But only if you stay open-minded. You've never had pizza, I would be willing to bet money that you've never tried beer, and you don't seem like a cinephile."

"A what?" Regina raises her brows. 

Emma just grins, grabbing a slice from inside the box and biting off the point. "This is gonna be fun."

 

 

**TBC**


	8. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina stares at the triangular, gooey piece of food in front of her, contemplating how best to break it to Emma that she has no intention of biting into such an abomination.

*****

Regina stares at the triangular, gooey piece of food in front of her, contemplating how best to break it to Emma that she has no intention of biting into such an abomination. She looks up to find the blonde currently trying to make sense of her home theater system. Smirking, she teases her, "Never expected to find this here, did you?" 

Emma's busy scrutinizing a few of the remotes in her hand, but doesn't miss tossing her a look over her shoulder. "I didn't even think you knew what TV was when I came here." 

Her smirk only widens, and she rolls her eyes, getting comfortable on her plush sofa. "Explain to me again what these round meat-like things are on this... pizza." 

Emma throws her a grin, setting down two of the remotes, having located the correct one for the DVD player. "It's pepperoni," she tells her, and then stands up. "You know, this is kinda like introducing a caveman to pizza." 

She can't help the wounded look she directs toward the blonde, who then rolls her eyes and reassures her, "But you're much nicer to look at than a caveman." After a beat, she adds, "Much cleaner eyebrows." 

At that, Regina chuckles. She picks up her plate again and studies the slice in front of her. "So this is sauce, cheese, bread, and something passing for meat." 

"Oh my God," Emma widens her eyes in exasperation. "Would you just try it already?" 

Glaring, Regina grabs for her knife and fork. Her mouth goes slack in silent protest when the blonde snatches them away from her. 

"Uh-uh!" she shakes her head. "We're not at a royal ball here, Queenie. You eat pizza with your hands." 

"But it's big, and there's so much grease!" she complains, and stares with disdain at the slice of pizza in front of her. It just seems so _uncivilized_. 

But Emma just stares at her, not letting up, and finally she lets out an agitated huff and picks up the slice. She eyes her sofa warily, and opens her mouth to suggest that maybe they eat in the dining room after all. 

Emma cuts her off with a shake of the head. "Eat it." 

So Regina glares at her and bites off the point. She grimaces around the initial taste and begins to chew, and... well, perhaps it's not so bad. 

Her pleasant surprise must register in her expression, for soon Emma is smiling knowingly at her. "Not so bad, right?" 

She doesn't want to concede _too_ much, however. She doesn't want her getting a superiority complex, after all. "It's... not the worst thing." 

Emma gives her a smirk, and it was ridiculous of her to think that she wouldn't get a superiority complex anyway. "Just wait until you try the beer." 

"Baby steps," Regina tells her, and the two of them settle back on the couch together, on opposite ends, as the DVD player whirs to life. 

The usual titles pop up - government threats about redistribution, and several 'coming attractions' that Emma skips past, before they get to the main menu. And at seeing the title, Regina frowns, slowly looking over at her counterpart in disbelief. "You brought over something called... _'Die Hard'_?" 

Emma nods and smiles, clearly satisfied with herself. She looks over at Regina and tells her, "It's a _classic_ ," as if that will boost the quality in her eyes. 

The slice of pizza is set aside and forgotten. Regina sits back against the plush couch, arms folded across her chest and brow quirked in a challenge. "No," she intones slowly, drawing out the word. "'Casablanca' is a classic. Any movie starring either Hepburn - Katharine or Audrey, can be deemed a 'classic.' This is..." She gestures to the screen as Emma hits play, blowing a puff of air past her lips in derision. "This is a glorified explosion interlaced with curse words." 

Emma widens her eyes again, this time in surprise. "You've seen it?" 

"No, of course not!" Shaking her head, she slumps further against the couch, mouth settling into a frown as she prepares herself for the next hour-plus of her life to be plucked from her against her will. "I have, however, heard of it." 

"Oh. Well, just keep an open mind! You might like it." 

_Doubtful_ , she thinks, and then an idea strikes her. She perks up a bit, and reaches for her plate once again. "I'll make you a deal, my dear," she purrs, feeling a bit like Rumplestiltskin in the moment. "If I survive this..." she hates to even use this word, " _'film,'_ of yours, then... you stay awhile longer and we'll watch one of the films that _I_ like." She sticks out her hand, raising a brow. "Do we have a deal?" 

Emma regards her for a moment, probably disbelieving that she's actually seen any movies in her time spent holed up in this timeless town. Finally, she quirks a half-smile and reaches out, taking her hand. "Alright, deal." 

They shake on it, and Regina takes another bite of her pizza, not even bothering to pretend this time that she doesn't like it. 

** 

The movie is much longer than she initially expects, but luckily it's not as horrible as she expects either. It's just not anything she would bother watching again. The plot is ludicrous -- getaway vehicles, tons of explosives, terrorist plots, and one renegade cop that outsmarts them all. 

Emma thoroughly enjoys all 132 minutes of the movie, if the fact that her eyes remain glued to the screen the entire time can serve as any indication. Regina hates to admit it to herself, but... the most entertaining part of this whole affair is _watching_ Emma watch the movie. 

Her blue-green eyes grow large with glee at any explosion or gunfire, and she would occasionally spout off "Oh _shit_ ," at certain points while blindly reaching for another slice of pizza. 

It's horribly undignified, and yet, strangely... endearing. 

Regina shakes herself out of the trance, sitting up. Finding anything Emma Swan does endearing is simply... insane. Perhaps she should set herself up for a sojourn in a nice padded cell in the hospital's basement. Perhaps even next to Sidney. 

"Well?" Emma asks when the credits roll, turning to Regina with what she can only think to describe as excitement written all over her face. 

Regina purses her lips, ready to tell her that it's easily one of the worst movies she's ever seen. But for some reason, she can't quite bring herself to do it. Instead, she says, "It wasn't... completely unbearable." 

Excitedly, Emma grabs her hand and squeezes it tight. "I knew you'd like it. Alright, so what's next?" 

Regina looks down at their hands, intertwined over the fluffy cream cushions of her couch. Then she sucks in a breath and drops Emma's hand, rising to her feet. "Now, I believe we should take care of the rest of this pizza before it congeals any further." 

"Sure," Emma agrees, and follows her to the kitchen. "You wanna keep any leftovers?" 

Regina feels the need to remind her that there are only two slices left. She'd managed to stomach two of them throughout the duration of the movie, and Emma somehow fit four into that impossibly-flat stomach of hers. She shakes her head. "They're all yours." 

"Did you enjoy it _at all_?" she asks, leaning on the counter, and she looks so damned hopeful. 

Regina flashes her a smile. "Yes, I did. Not to worry." 

"Oh! Good." Without preamble, Emma heads into her refrigerator as if she lives there, and pulls out the six pack of glass bottles she'd toted along at the beginning of the evening. "Now, some beer!" 

Regina sighs, wiping her hands of any leftover pizza grease on a nearby dishtowel. "Don't you think I've had enough 'firsts' for this evening? Pizza and action movies?" 

Emma just grins, "Nope," and hooks her arm with hers on the way back to the living room. 

Regina can't help the chuckle, and she looks over at the blonde, somewhat amazed at what strides they've been making. It's lovely. It's too much. She should run, or perhaps conjure up a quick curse to force them apart again. 

Emma takes no notice of her stare as they reach the living room, and she flops down on the couch so roughly that Regina very nearly admonishes her the same way she does Henry when he flings himself about on the furniture. Instead, she smooths out her now slightly-wrinkled dress pants, and makes her way over to the small case of movies she keeps. 

"So what are we watching?" Emma asks, and she can feel the blonde's eyes on her. 

She smiles, telling her cryptically, "You'll see," and flips through to find the correct disc. 

It has never been difficult for Regina to recognize the feeling of being watched -- over the years, she's become so skilled at it, she can even sense where a pair of eyes roam. Currently, the Swan woman's are somewhere in the region of her butt, and she can't help the quirk of her brow as she says teasingly, "You know how the old saying goes, Emma... 'take a picture, it'll last longer.'" 

When she turns over her shoulder, Emma's eyes snap back up to hers before they roll toward the ceiling. She reaches for a beer, twists off the top and says, "Don't flatter yourself," before grinning and taking a big swig. 

When Regina joins her, something in her makes her sit a little closer, and she can't deny the slight thrill that rattles through her as their shoulders bump. Emma reaches forward and grabs another bottle, twisting the cap off and handing it to her. 

"It's kind of an acquired taste," she tells her, "But you'll like it." 

Regina just purses her lips and starts the DVD. This time when the titles come up, it's Emma's turn to protest. 

"Oh no, no Regina," and she throws her a look as if she's about to be tortured. "Not ' _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ ', come on!" 

She smirks, haughtiness in her tone. "I do believe we had a deal." 

Emma huffs and slumps against the couch. Regina is propped on her side, and their shoulders are touching once more. Emma grumbles beside her and Regina gives her a quick shoulder-check, enjoying the wince she gets in return. 

"It's an acquired taste," she teases. "But you'll like it." 

She feels the blonde glaring at her but is happy to ignore it, as they settle in to watch a second film together. 

** 

Regina dozes off somewhere within the second half of the movie, not a sip taken from her beer. When she comes to, it's to realize her head is resting on something quite hard. Another few moments pass before she realizes it's Emma's shoulder, who moves slightly to take another sip of beer. 

She can hear George Peppard onscreen, making his big speech to Audrey Hepburn's character at the end of the film. 

_"You know what's wrong with you, Miss Whoever-you-are? You're chicken, you've got no guts."_

She hears a noise from slightly above her that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle. 

_"You're afraid to stick out your chin and say, 'Okay, life's a fact, people do fall in love, people do belong to each other, because that's the only chance anybody's got for real happiness.'"_

Regina slowly lifts her head, unseen by Emma, who is downright engrossed with the film and blinking away moisture in her eyes. 

_"You call yourself a free spirit, a 'wild thing,' and you're terrified somebody's gonna stick you in a cage. Well baby, you're already in that cage. You built it yourself. And it's not bound in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land. It's wherever you go. Because no matter where you run, you just end up running into yourself."_

Regina's dumbfounded by what she's seeing. Either that or she's dreaming. Has the hardened and jaded Savior just been moved to tears by -- as Emma herself called it not two hours ago -- a 'girly-movie'? She props herself up on an elbow again, lifting her head fully off the blonde's shoulder. 

"Emma..." 

"I'm not crying," Emma snips at her. 

Regina smiles, her tone indulgent. "I'd never accuse you of doing something so feminine." 

Emma turns to glare, and she can see the moisture unmistakably. "Alright fine, so that part got to me." Looking down at her beer bottle, she peels away what's left of the label, and Regina wonders how long she'd been sitting there, just picking at it. Softly, she admits, "Maybe it hits a little close to home." 

Regina's not sure what to say -- it's not often the Savior looks vulnerable, after all -- and instead she leans on her elbow again, still propped on her side. Her shoulder rests against Emma's once more and they turn to watch the movie. 

It's pouring rain in New York City and Audrey Hepburn has gotten out of the taxi cab to look for her cat. She finds him with George Peppard and the music swells. A big, cinematic kiss ends the film as do the final strains of 'Moon River,' and then it fades out. 

Regina's left wondering what to do, then. Should she tease Emma for liking the film? She's uncertain what frame of mind the blonde is in right now. She feels her turning to look at her, and she looks up, just slightly. 

"I used to do a lot of running, you know," she says, quietly. 

Regina pushes herself up again, angling to face Emma. Her elbow presses deep into the back of the couch and she tucks her legs up beside her, prompting her softly, "Go on." 

She sighs. "My whole time growing up, I never belonged to anybody. I never stayed in one place. A few months with a foster family here," she tilts her head one way, and then the other, "a few years over there. I hated every minute of it. So I kept running. Even when I grew up, I ran. Ran all the way to Florida for awhile and wound up stealing cars, among other things, in Tallahassee." 

Regina raises her eyebrows, a dozen comments cropping up about a car thief as her son's biological mother, but she keeps them to herself. Instead, she just listens. 

And Emma tells her... well, not _everything_ , she's certain, but it's a great deal of information. There's a yellow death-trap of a car and a fellow thief named Neal -- one that she hoped to make a life with before she was sent to jail and he abandoned her. 

Regina swallows. "This Neal, he's... Henry's father?" 

Emma nods. "Yeah." 

She plays with something around her neck, and it takes Regina a moment to realize it's a pendant of a swan. Emma notices her stare and tells her it was something Neal had given to -- or, well, stolen for -- her. "He was my first love, y'know? And it was the first time I ever thought that maybe I could..." she shrugs, and looks down at her well-peeled beer bottle, "I dunno, quit running." When she looks up, her eyes are soft, and she asks even softer, "You ever feel like that about anyone?" 

Regina nods, a lump already swelling in her throat. "Once," she tells her. 

The look on Emma's face lets her know that the name 'Daniel' is on her mind. And Regina's never wanted to talk about this with anyone. When she brought it up with Emma the first time, she kicked herself for days, knowing that the blonde would needle her endlessly until she found out everything. 

But surprisingly... she's done the opposite. It's been awhile now, and Emma has not bugged her or poked or prodded. When they'd been drunk together and she _knew_ the blonde wanted to ask, she was prepared to tell her and it was Emma that stopped her. 

_"You want me to tell you about Daniel... don't you?"_

_"When you're up for it."_

"Emma?" she calls out tentatively, and her hand reaches out of its own accord. 

Emma catches it within her own, and her eyes shine with nothing but understanding as she says softly, almost encouragingly, "Yeah, Regina." 

It's another first, certainly. And it's one that makes her stomach tumble... it almost makes her nauseous as she steels her courage, takes a breath and then tells her, "I'd like to tell you about Daniel now."

 

**TBC**


	9. Daniel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma presses her lips together; she fights the urge to tell Regina that she _needs_ to do this, because who the hell is she to tell Regina what needs to be done? She hadn’t talked about Neal to anyone until tonight and she has an inkling that what happened there doesn’t even touch whatever happened to this Daniel guy.

*****

Emma had been expecting the words before they left Regina's lips, but that expectation had done nothing to quell the churning of her stomach. And now here she sits, gripping Regina's hand for support as Regina takes a breath and readies herself for revealing something she may never have told anyone.

She watches as Regina dips her head. Layers of differing shades of brown fall into her eyes and Emma just waits. She has the strangest urge to touch her hair again, like she had when they were drunk, but this time she holds back. She thinks it’s enough that Regina sought out her hand. Any further contact would be too much in her vulnerable state.

So she continues to watch. Regina’s mouth opens and closes with false starts and failed attempts at an opening. Emma looks down at their joined hands and gives Regina’s a squeeze, hoping that will kick start some sort of thought process.  
Finally, Regina lifts her head. Tears shine in her eyes, and the corners of her full lips are downturned. She shakes her head, voice tremulous as she says, “I don’t think I can do this.”

Emma presses her lips together; she fights the urge to tell Regina that she _needs_ to do this, because who the hell is she to tell Regina what needs to be done? She hadn’t talked about Neal to anyone until tonight and she has an inkling that what happened there doesn’t even touch whatever happened to this Daniel guy.

And weirdly, she doesn’t want Regina to feel uncomfortable. A year ago, she would’ve tried every trick in the book to wring information from the brunette – particularly if it was something painful that could be used against her. But everything’s changed. She likes Regina, now. Whatever this is between them may never be simple or explicable, but it’s there. It’s building and it’s growing, and she feels like it’s helping her to be a better person, for herself and for Henry’s sake.

So rather than punish Regina for backing out or prodding her to keep going, Emma simply nods. She gives their twined hands a little shake back and forth and ducks her head to capture the brunette’s gaze as she tells her, “It’s okay.”

Regina looks up at her and her expression is indecipherable. She looks somewhere between pissed and sad, and Emma thinks she may have misinterpreted. So she elaborates. “I know that this is hard for you. So… if you’re not ready to tell me now, you don’t have to. Okay? It’s alright.”

She watches Regina’s eyes bounce back and forth, searching her own. “I don’t think you understand…” she murmurs.

Emma nods. “You’re absolutely right. I don’t understand, and even if someday you tell me, I’ll probably _never_ completely understand. That’s why I want you to tell me on _your_ terms, okay?”

Regina nods, then says, “It’s not that.”

Emma quirks a brow, her fingers slowly untangling. “What is it?”

“Daniel. What happened to him… to me, it’s… it’s why we’re here. It’s why you and I are sitting in this house right now, in a made-up town.”

She swallows. “Okay…”

“It’s because I told someone a secret. Told them something private, that they couldn’t keep to themselves. And, when that secret got out, it—"

Emma grabs her hand again, a little bit more of the enigma about Regina slipping away. “Hey,” she beckons.

Regina meets her eyes again, and Emma squeezes her hand.

“That’s even more reason for you not to worry about telling me now. I know we’ve only been friends for a little while, and… you probably feel like I haven’t quite earned your trust.” Raising her brows, she verifies, “Right?”

After some faint hesitation, Regina nods.

Emma nods back. “Right. Well I can tell you right now that here, Regina?” She gestures around them. “Anything you say stays between us. I mean, lunches at the deli there are always people around, and when we’re hanging out with Henry he’s bound to hear something, but… when it’s just you and me, whatever you tell me stays right here. I won’t tell anyone. Not Henry--”

“I’m not worried about Henry,” she interjects.

“And I won’t tell Mary Margaret,” Emma finishes, and that’s when she sees visible relief wash over Regina’s face.

She feels her eyebrow quirking, and she wonders just how involved Mary Margaret had been in this whole ‘Daniel’ thing. 

“Thank you,” Regina says, and the look in her eyes is genuine gratitude.

So Emma smiles and says, “No problem,” while contemplating grilling her mother for details when she gets home.

Silence settles around them after that, and they exchange furtive glances. “So…” Regina purses her lips. “What now?”

“Well,” Emma sighs, sitting back against the couch, slumping down to how she’d been sitting during the movie. “I could break out the hard liquor if you want.”

Regina chuckles, leaning on her left elbow again. “I think I’m still recovering from our last booze-soaked rendez-vous.”

Emma looks down at her, finding Regina’s cheek just inches from touching her upper arm. She’s staring straight ahead, eyes seemingly seeing through whatever’s in front of her. Softly, Emma asks her, “Do you need some time to think?”

After a moment, Regina nods. “Mmhmm.”

She nods back, and looks straight ahead as well. A long moment passes in which neither of them say anything. She can hear Regina’s steady intake and release of breath beside her, and takes comfort in the feeling of simply being this relaxed next to the brunette. Then, she asks quietly, “Do you wanna be alone?”

Regina’s quiet for a long moment, still staring straight ahead. Emma feels an unsettling bit of disappointment creeping in, and she gets ready to get up before she hears Regina say, lowly, “No.”

She looks down at her in surprise, and Regina looks up. 

“Please stay.”

After a moment, they both smile. “Okay,” Emma says, and settles back again. “No problem.” Then she reaches for the remote and turns the TV on again. “Let’s find something to watch.”

She thinks several minutes pass – she’s flipped through the onscreen guide and is just about to settle on some stupid cooking show before Regina speaks again, calling her name quietly.

“Emma?”

“Yeah?” She looks down.

And she watches as a smile spreads across Regina’s face – gratitude. “Thank you.”

Then she feels Regina lean a little closer and she lets herself do the same, until Regina’s cheek is ghosting against her upper arm. “You’re welcome,” she tells her, and they settle in to watch TV.

 

*****

The last thing Emma remembers is making fun of one of the hosts of a cooking show before her eyelids got heavy. The next time she opens them, it’s light outside and there’s a mound of dark brown hair in her face.

She spits out the bit that’s gotten in her mouth and props herself up, squinting toward the window. It’s clearly morning, and both of them are still in the living room. She looks down at Regina, sleeping toward the outside of the couch cushions, the back of her head directly in front of Emma, and she figures they must have fallen asleep leaning together, and just collapsed on the cushions somehow.

Emma wipes at the side of her mouth, a bit of crust there, and she looks down to make sure she hasn’t drooled all over Regina’s sofa. It looks like it’s dry, so she relaxes a bit and sinks against the back of the couch propped on one elbow. Groaning, she drags a hand over her face and wonders if Regina has a coffeepot. 

She nudges her, the grogginess in her voice causing her to croak the first syllable of Regina’s name silently, the rest coming out as a clogged, “’Gina…” When she gets no response, she tries again. “Regina.”

She gets a grunt from the brunette, and leans back a bit as Regina rolls onto her back, grimacing in her sleep. Emma leans over her, studying her face. Her makeup is smudged again, and her hair’s in complete disarray. It’s not quite as awesome as when they woke up hungover, but it’s still a pretty great sight. Regina never lets herself look imperfect, not ever, so she counts herself pretty lucky that she’s been witness to it twice.

But, there’s a little part of her that can’t help wanting to give Regina crap about it. So she continues leaning over her, waiting for her to wake up. She watches her long lashes flutter, and when those brown eyes pop open, Emma waggles her eyebrows and teases, “What’s up, sexy?”

And Regina, clearly unprepared for being met with a face so close, shrieks and sits up abruptly. Their foreheads bash together with a loud ‘thunk’ that Emma thinks the Marx Brothers would be proud of. She jerks back to a sitting position on her knees on the couch, and Regina tumbles onto the floor. Both of them hold their heads and groan.

“Oh God,” she rests her head on the couch, rubbing her forehead with her hand. “Okay, remind me not to do that ever again.”

Regina’s hand comes up and presses down on the couch cushion, acting as a brace as she pushes herself up. She glares, grumbling sleepily, “I don’t think I need to. I should think the pain radiating through your skull will serve as reminder enough.”

“Right.” Eyes still squinted shut, Emma reaches out and grabs Regina’s arm, pulling her up. “Sorry.”

“What the hell were you doing?” Regina groans, and she’s surprised to note that there’s no malice in the tone.

“I was trying to wake you up!”

“Well congratulations, you succeeded,” the former queen deadpans, throwing her a glare.

Emma glares back, but soon the idiocy of the situation occurs to both of them, and they chuckle, shaking their heads. Emma gives her forehead one last rub, still feeling it throbbing, as she says, “Sorry, Regina, I really am.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“I was just going to ask if you had any coffee.”

She nods, “I do,” and rises from the couch.

Emma follows her to the kitchen, watching the way she rakes her hands through her hair. Afterward, her hair falls into place flawlessly, and Emma has the strangest urge to kick her. Leave it to Regina to just have to do one little thing to look perfect again.

In the kitchen, Regina pulls out a small Keurig machine and grabs a few single-serving coffees. She lays them out on the counter and tells Emma, “Dealer’s choice,” and Emma selects the mocha espresso flavor.

Regina starts brewing and Emma leans on the counter with folded arms, a grin forming on her face. Her tongue presses to the roof of her mouth and she can’t help teasing her counterpart, “So this is the second sleepover we’ve had now. Does this mean we’ve gone from simple ‘friends’ to ‘best friends forever?’”

Regina laughs in a way that ebbs into a groan as she says, “Dear God I hope not. The two of us, around each other forever?”

“Yeah,” Emma nods in agreement. “That would probably end in bloodshed.” After a beat, she adds, “Yours, not mine.”

“Mmm,” Regina grins up at her wickedly, and reaches for a coffee mug. “Switch that around, dear, and you’d be correct.”

Emma glares, but it quickly dissolves into a grin. Then she watches as Regina gets out a small griddle and goes into the fridge, pulling out something that looks like ready-made pancake batter. She lifts it and her eyebrow as she asks, simply, “Stay for breakfast?”

Emma smirks, nodding at the batter. “Throw in some chocolate chips and you’ve got a deal.”

**

So together they make pancakes. Regina shows her how, and it’s surprisingly easy. So much so that Emma’s actually glad she didn’t know how to make them until now. She could have easily weighed five-hundred pounds if she had pancakes at her disposal all the time. And Regina indulges her, throwing chocolate chips into hers, and a handful of fresh blueberries into her own.

They sit down to eat and the atmosphere is quiet and nice. Emma sips at her mocha while Regina drinks tea and leafs through the paper, and it’s a perfect lazy morning.

When Regina breaks that nice silence, it’s almost startling. “He was our stable boy.”

Emma looks up from her pancakes, fork hanging out of her mouth. “Huh?”

“Daniel.” She folds the paper closed, folding her arms atop it.

“Oh.” _Oh_. Emma’s stomach tumbles, and her spine straightens accordingly. “Okay…”

She buckles down and prepares as Regina launches into the story. It starts out simply enough. A stable boy she’d been taught to ignore that she eventually begins to like. And then a stolen kiss and before Regina had known it she was in love. It was light and teenager-y and, well… so unlike Regina, but kinda nice to hear.

Then a young princess on a runaway steed comes into play – a young Snow White, and Emma feels a twinge of dread sitting low in her belly. There’s an overbearing mother and a middle-aged king wanting a replacement queen for his young daughter Snow White, and Regina being forced into an arranged marriage.

Tears are in the brunette’s eyes as she tells her of plotting to run away with Daniel – somewhere far away from her mother where they can be married. And then a secret is told to an eavesdropping young princess. A secret that is somehow divulged along the way and leads to a showdown in the stables. The overbearing, disapproving mother takes the heart of Daniel the stable boy and he dies in Regina’s arms. She’s forced to marry the king, and the whole thing is so twisted and dark that Emma can’t help but wonder if Walt Disney had any idea what actually went on when he made that happy-go-lucky cartoon.

By the time Regina’s finished telling the story, she’s crying over her blueberry pancakes. Emma can’t tell if she wants comfort or wants to throw up the armor, so she reaches tentatively across the table. Regina takes her hand and holds it practically in a death-grip. She faintly worries that she’ll come out of this with a broken bone or two but forces herself to ignore the pain.

This story, this ordeal, has been built up in Regina for God knows how long. Centuries, maybe? She still has no idea what time period they’re all from anyway. She doesn’t even know how old Regina is here, in Storybrooke. But it doesn’t matter, because right now Regina is clearly a grief-stricken sixteen-year-old in the stables all over again.

Emma drops her hand and gets up from her chair, going over to Regina’s side. If Regina throws up the armor, she can deal with it, but she senses her need for comfort. She sits down beside her and drapes an arm across the brunette’s shoulders, telling her that she’s here and that it’s okay.

Regina glares at the words but leans into the comfort, her head settling between Emma’s neck and shoulder. She feels moisture on her neck and feels something trickle down her shirt, but she ignores it all. 

And then she realizes all at once that she has no idea what to say. Any inklings she had about Daniel, about where all the bad blood between Regina and Mary Margaret came from, pales in comparison to the actual story. 

And she thinks to herself, _No wonder Regina went batshit crazy with magic._

She feels Regina pulling away, dipping her head and wiping at her tears, and Emma keeps both hands clamped onto Regina’s shoulders, trying to get her to feel some semblance of being grounded here on Earth, not still in the stables reliving that memory. Once she’s captured Regina’s watery gaze again, she smiles as encouragingly as she can. Her voice is slow, but firm and sure as she says, “I am really glad you told me all this. _Really._ ”

Regina sniffles. She dabs at her nose with her napkin and looks up, blinking away the remaining tears. She searches her eyes with a kind of wonder on her face. “I’ve never told anybody that story before.”

Emma blinks, just studying her. “What made you want to tell me?”

Regina’s still staring at her with a soft look in her eyes. They shine with tears but never spill over. “I don’t know,” she finally says, but Emma can tell by her eyes that it’s not true.

 _Yes you do,_ she thinks, _just tell me._

She swallows instead, tweaking out a small smile. “Well.” She pats Regina’s hands and gets up. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you did.” And she lightly touches the ends of Regina’s hair as she takes their plates to the kitchen.

Regina follows her, standing on the opposite side of the island as Emma rinses the dishes and puts them in the dishwasher. She looks like she wants to say something, and Emma can tell what it is before she can even get out a syllable. 

So she reassures her, “It stays between us, I promise.” And she watches as relief floods her expression for the second time in the past twelve hours.

When the dishes are stowed away, they’re back to silence. Emma figures she’s taken up enough of the brunette’s time. Not only that, but she might need some time to recover from what they’ve just discussed. Emma smiles, setting the dishcloth aside, and lifts her brows as she sighs, “I should probably head home.”

Regina looks stricken for a moment and she wonders why; but the expression is blinked away and covered with a smile. “Yes, of-of course. I’m surprised the search party hasn’t arrived yet.”

Emma chuckles, remembering the last time she’d been with Regina longer than expected. And then the time after that. She can’t help but wonder what the reaction will be this time. “Right.”

They walk to the door together and Emma wonders how to properly say goodbye after everything they’ve divulged to each other in the last 24 hours. Her brain’s still not fully functional, so all she can say is, “Thanks… for everything.”

Regina nods, blinking a smile, and for a moment they just stand in the doorway – Emma on the stoop and Regina still inside with one hand on the door. 

Regina looks down a moment, tucking a slice of hair behind her ear. “Um…”

And then to her surprise, she steps in to her and wraps her arms around her back, hugging her. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Emma finds herself smiling as she pats Regina’s back, then steps away with a teasing smile on her face. “Are you sure we’re not best friends forever?”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Positive.”

“Okay, are we at least in ‘good friends’ territory now?”

She gets a hard look in return and she’s ready for the snappy comeback. Instead, Regina purses her lips. “I suppose we are.”

“Okay, good.” She starts heading for the car then, turning halfway down the walk and calling after her, “Hope you know this means I’m gonna buy you a friendship bracelet!”

And without missing a beat, Regina sasses back, “Do it and I’ll throw it away in front of you!”

 

**TBC**


	10. Pangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month has passed since she revealed to Emma who Daniel was, and his significance in her life. One month in which they’ve been very nearly inseparable, to the point where it’s thoroughly worrying Mary Margaret. 
> 
> Not that Regina minds, of course.

***** 

“Kinda weird, how much can change in a month. Isn’t it?” 

Regina swivels her head on the pillow, looking over at her counterpart in the dark. She bites back the urge to correct her sentence structure and replies, softly, “I’d say so.” 

A month has passed since she revealed to Emma who Daniel was, and his significance in her life. One month in which they’ve been very nearly inseparable, to the point where it’s thoroughly worrying Mary Margaret. 

Not that Regina minds, of course. 

It’s been a month of lunches at the deli – their weekly occurrence now bumped up to thrice weekly. A month of meet-ups at The Rabbit Hole, and amicably sharing Henry, and enjoying one another’s company. And now here they are, in her bed staring up at the ceiling. 

“ _This_ is weird,” Emma tells her, and she can hear the grimace without seeing her face. 

Regina smiles and reminds her, “We’re not naked.” 

“I know, but… us? Sharing a bed? I mean…” The mattress dips and soon Emma is propped on her side facing her. The shadows and the slivers of moonlight battle for control, painting her in stripes. There’s still a safe foot or two between them, and yet somehow, it feels a bit dangerous. “It’s weird… right?” 

Regina, still lying on her back, shrugs and folds her hands primly over the covers, tugging at the sleeves of her silk pajamas. “It’s unorthodox, certainly,” she admits. “But to be quite honest, I’d rather endure a little so-called ‘weirdness’ over waking up with a sore neck and back.” 

Within the past month, they’ve shared many late nights. Lots of talking – Regina thinks it’s more than she’s ever spoken to someone her entire life. And many times, those late nights have turned into them falling asleep on her couch, or in her study, waking up to blazing sunshine and stiff muscles. 

After a moment, Emma concedes, “This _is_ more comfortable than downstairs.” 

“Yes. Much more accommodating.” 

“But still—“

“Weird, yes, I get it,” Regina sighs. She scrubs a hand over her tired eyes, gesturing toward the door before her hand falls back onto the bed. “You’re welcome to sleep in Henry’s room if this is too much for you.” 

“No.” Emma shifts again, and she is possibly the most fidgety person Regina’s ever encountered. Not only that, but she can see now where Henry gets his fidgeting from. 

She settles on her stomach, and Regina watches the waves of blonde fall down her back as she bunches a pillow beneath herself and says, “Let’s talk.” 

Regina gawks at her. “It’s one-thirty in the morning. And we’ve been talking all night! What on Earth could possibly be left to talk about?” 

“Well… actually, there is something.” 

The change in tone is what catches Regina’s attention, and she reaches over to turn on her bedside lamp. “What is it?” 

“Gold kinda cornered me the other day and asked for a favor.” 

“Well that’s simple – say no,” she huffs, and reaches toward the lamp again. 

Emma’s hand on her arm stops her. “I kinda already thought of that, but then he reminded me that I owe him.” 

“No.” She stares at her in disbelief. “You actually made a deal with him?” 

“Yeah.” Emma sounds just as annoyed as she. 

“Well…” She turns on her side and props herself up with an elbow on her pillow, her hand cradling the side of her head. “What does he want?” 

“He wants me to help him find his son.” 

“Of course.” Regina can’t help the sneer. “Darling _Baelfire_.” Gold’s son was probably the entire reason he snuck a loophole into the curse to begin with – he wanted a way out so he could find him. She turns back to Emma. “So he’s sending you on a wild goose chase?” 

“Not really. I guess he did some sort of locator spell or something, and he’s in Manhattan.” 

Regina raises her brows. “New York?” and frowns when Emma nods. “Well, that’s… quite a tall order.” 

Emma sighs ruefully. “Tell me about it. God knows how long we’ll be searching that city. I guess the locator spell doesn’t narrow down an address like Google Maps.” 

Regina chuckles softly; then, Emma’s pronoun usage catches up with her. “Wait… ‘we’?” 

She nods. “Yeah, he’s going with.” 

At that, Regina sits up, mouth slack in shock. “But… he can’t leave Storybrooke! His memories will be wiped. He won’t even remember he _has_ a son if he crosses the town line.” Not that anyone would mind… 

With an upward flick of both brows, Emma sighs, “I guess he found a way around that too.” 

Regina rolls her eyes. _Of course he did. Selfish little pr--_

“Regina?” Emma calls, drawing her from her volatile thoughts. “You still with me?” 

Regina looks down at her friend, only noticing then that Emma’s hand has been wrapped around her forearm for several minutes. “I’m here,” she says, watching as her hand slowly retreats. Then, she looks up. “When did he ask you?” 

Emma searches her eyes. “A couple days ago.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

At that, Emma lets out a little chuckle, sitting up as well. The covers fall to her waist, and she pulls her pillow into her lap, to conceal the fact that she had stripped down to nothing more than a tanktop and her underwear. “We’re not married, y’know.” 

“I know,” Regina snips, giving her a glare. Though they see each other enough, certainly. “Then why are you telling me now?” 

“Because.” 

“Because why?” 

“Because of reasons,” Emma shoots back childishly, and oh really this is going nowhere. 

“Emma dear, I’m very tired.” 

“Okay fine! Number one, because we kinda share a kid, and I was hoping you’d, y’know… take him while I’m gone.” 

Regina nods. “Of course, that goes without saying.” 

“And…” The blonde’s cheeks turn pink with whatever she’s about to say, and Regina wonders just how embarrassing it will be. “You’re kinda my best friend, and… I’ll miss you.” She winces immediately after the confession. 

“Well.” Regina’s heart flutters without her conscious consent but she ignores it. “That was embarrassing for you.” 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Come on, Regina. We’ve spent practically _all_ of our free time together for a month. You can’t possibly tell me you won’t miss me even a little.” 

“I see it as a welcome break,” she quips. And she knows Emma sees through her – she could even when they _didn’t_ spend every waking moment together – but she can’t bring herself to say what she really feels. 

Truthfully, what she really feels is rather alarming. She’s become so accustomed to having the blonde at her heels at every turn, she thinks it will be like missing a pet. But then a part of her bubbles up and reminds her that, no, that’s not it at all. 

Emma’s the first person she’s opened up to since the curse. Hell, since long before the curse. Aside from Henry, Emma’s the only person she actually wants to spend time with. 

And within the last month, they’ve grown worlds closer. It’s to the point where Regina actually looks forward to her phone calls. It’s to the point where her day is brightened simply by knowing they’ll see each other at some point. It’s… well, it’s borderline pathetic. 

She’s quiet for so long that Emma eventually gives up and rolls her eyes. “Alright, fine, Regina,” she says. “You’re tired, so let’s get some sleep.” 

Regina hesitates, her mind still sorting through and trying to assess how she’s actually feeling. “Yes,” she responds without thinking, and reaches over to turn out the light. 

Then, they each lie down on their respective sides in her king-size bed, facing away from one another on their sides. Regina pillows one hand under her head, frowning to herself in the dark. Whatever she’s feeling, it’s disconcerting on many levels. 

Finally, she breaks the silence. “Emma?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Yes.” 

There’s a pause, then… “Yes what?” 

“I will,” she tries again, cryptically as she can while her face burns white-hot. 

And she can hear the annoying grin in Emma’s voice. “You will what?” 

She huffs, rolling her eyes in the darkness. “Come on, you know what I’m getting at.” 

“Yep! And I’m gonna make you embarrass yourself just like I did.” 

Regina sighs disgustedly. Though whether she’s disgusted at herself for what she’s starting to feel, or at Emma for torturing her, she can’t be certain. Finally, she grumbles, “I’ll miss you too.” 

“Thatta girl, I knew you could do it.” 

And she can actually _feel_ the annoying self-satisfaction just radiating from Emma until they both fall asleep. 

 

***** 

The next morning, Emma rushes off to see Henry to school and Regina heads to the town hall for a budgetary meeting. She arrives at the deli at noon for their usual thrice-weekly lunch, and Emma is nowhere in sight. So Regina grabs a chair near the window and waits. 

Soon, she sees her strolling up the walk, followed closely by someone with a very distinctive limp. She peers out the blinds and watches the two of them converse. Emma’s expression is tense and annoyed, and Gold’s is his usual superiority. 

The blonde seems to blow him off and heads inside, the bell above the door tinkling her entrance. Regina flicks her brows upward, watching as Emma slides into the chair opposite hers and huffs out, “Incoming,” before Gold joins them. 

“Miss Swan, I don’t believe we’ve finished our discussion.” 

“Really? I thought I said goodbye,” she deadpans, opening the menu and avoiding eye contact. 

Gold presses his cane into the floor, both hands folded atop it. He glances up and Regina tilts her head, feigning a smile. 

He looks angry. 

It pleases her. 

“Regina, if you’ll excuse us for a moment, Miss Swan and I have some business to—“ 

“No way,” Emma tells him, looking up at him through her lashes. A jerk of the head indicates Regina herself as she tells the imp, “Anything you wanna say to me, you can say in front of Regina.” 

Regina feels her lips curling in a self-satisfied smile, and she fights the urge she so often gets to extend to him her middle finger. 

She tells herself it’s because she’s a lady. 

He sneers back at her, lip curling in derision. “Ah yes,” he hisses, slowly. “Of course. Rumor has it you two are quite, ehm… close.” He gives them each a look. 

Emma visibly bristles at this and Regina feels a tumble low in her stomach. 

“Just tells us what you're after, Rumple,” Regina huffs, trying to sound as bored as she possibly can, “And make it quick.” 

“What I am after, Your Majesty,” he seethes, teeth grit together, “is an answer from Miss Swan. It is of no concern to you, so if you could not say another word.” And without waiting a split-second, he adds very pointedly, “ _Please_.” 

And there it is. She knew he was gonna drag that out again after the curse – the magic word he made her promise to abide by. So Regina sits back roughly in the hard plastic deli chair and folds her arms across her chest. 

Emma watches this transpire and then seemingly shakes away whatever she was thinking of it. “Look, I don’t want to leave Henry. I know I owe you, but you’ll have to pick on me for something else. Go look for your kid yourself.” 

He takes a step forward, and Emma looks nearly intimidated. _Nearly_. Regina feels a small twinge of pride at that, though she knows it has nothing to do with her. 

"No. We made a deal, and you are to abide by your side of the bargain." 

Emma sighs, and Regina looks over at her. They exchange a glance and it looks like Emma's about to acquiesce, just to get the little snake off her back. In her trademark uninterested drawl, she sits back and asks him, "When would we have to leave?" 

"Tomorrow night." 

"Fine," Emma grits out. "Now beat it, I'm hungry." 

Gold ignores her callous attitude and dips his head, as if gentlemanly bowing out of the conversation. "I thank you for your time, Miss Swan." He meets Regina's eyes, giving her a small almost teasing smile as he sing-songs, "Your Majesty," and then sweeps out of the deli. 

When he's gone, Regina turns back to her counterpart. "You're actually doing this?" 

Emma sighs, folding her arms over the open menu. "I kinda have to. He's been on my ass since he first asked me. I figure I can just go for a few days -- we probably won't find him -- and then I'll come back." 

"A few days," she repeats, and Emma hums in the affirmative. 

Regina's stomach turns again, and she tells herself it's just hunger pangs.

 

**TBC**


	11. Inexplicable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though they’re close – close enough to call each other ‘best friends’ – it still feels weird being in the mansion without Regina there. Like she’s intruding, in a way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra cookies to those that can name the fandom/pairing I give a little "shoutout" to in this chapter. :)

***** 

Regina’s been acting weird since lunch, and Emma can’t figure out why. She’s tried asking her about it, but it just gets shrugged off. She thinks it might have something to do with Gold, but she’s never seen Regina act weird around Gold -- or because of Gold -- before. She’s seen Regina act super Regina-like, all haughty and snotty, but not… whatever this is. 

And she’s leaving tomorrow night, so she wants to figure out what the problem is. If it’s something she’s done, she wants to fix it so she’s not leaving town with Regina pissed off at her. Plus, it’s the perfect opportunity. Storybrooke Elementary is having a lock-in for all the upper grades, and Mary Margaret is chaperoning. David’s picking up the night shift at the sheriff’s station, and there wouldn’t be much to do there anyway beside deal with Leroy. 

So before she and Regina part ways at town hall, she snags her arm. “Hey, why don’t we hang out tonight.” 

Regina looks like she’s in a trance of some sort. She looks down at where Emma’s touching her arm, and then back up to meet her eyes. She looks, well… a little sad, maybe? And Emma really wishes she knew what the hell was on her mind. 

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah.” She smiles good-naturedly. “To _night_ … typically follows to _day_.” She shrugs. “I figured we could eat, maybe play a game or something or listen to some music.” 

“Oh. Sure, I suppose. I have plenty of music we could listen to.” 

“Great!” 

So she heads right to Regina’s after she finishes up at the station, and she ends up getting there first. Luckily, over the last three months she’s been able to extract valuable information from Regina, such as where the hide-a-key is located. So she grabs it from the rock garden, from inside a purplish-colored rock, and lets herself in. 

Even though they’re close – close enough to call each other ‘best friends’ – it still feels weird being in the mansion without Regina there. Like she’s intruding, in a way. But she shrugs the feeling off and heads to the kitchen, because hey – intruding or not, she’s starting to get hungry. So she calls the pizza place, and they sound flabbergasted that they’ll be delivering to the mayor’s house. 

Then she heads to the study to figure out what they can do that evening. She finds a chess board and frowns in consideration, lifting her eyebrows. She never did learn how to play… maybe Regina could teach her. And then she’s drawn to the record player, and the small pile of records next to it. 

She’s always found it somewhat comical that Storybrooke is so outdated in so many ways. Everything, from the cars to the storefronts and some of the available products are straight out of the 80s and 90s. Emma wonders what kind of savior could bring the 21st century to this town if she couldn’t. 

She starts rifling through the pile of albums and immediately groans. Regina’s definition of “plenty of music” apparently meant a plethora of easy-listening tripe. The first album in the pile is Kenny G, and then there’s some Enya and Amy Grant, and Emma has all she can do not to throw all of them out the window. 

The pizza arrives not long before Regina does – Emma’s just tipping the delivery boy (in his boxy, 1990s car) when Regina’s Mercedes rolls up. The kid looks at her, then at Regina, before he grabs his tip and leaves quickly. _Probably still scared of the Evil Queen_ , she thinks, and then briefly ponders who he might’ve been in Henry’s book before Regina reaches her. 

“Pizza?” 

She smiles, holding up the piping hot box. “Figured you wouldn’t mind, since it didn’t kill you the last time.” 

Regina rolls her eyes and quips, “Barely,” and it seems like she’s back to her old self. 

Emma kind of wants to ask her what had gotten into her at the deli, but figures not to push her luck so soon. Besides, they’re spending the evening together. She’s got plenty of time to figure it out. 

“Are we eating now?” Regina asks, following her to the kitchen. 

Emma turns the oven on to the ‘warm’ setting and tosses the box inside. “Not just yet. We have more important matters to attend to.” 

Regina looks worried for a split-second before asking, “What is it?” 

She puts on a grim expression and tells her, “It’s your music.” 

“What about it?” 

“It’s terrible, Regina. Come on.” She grabs her hand. 

“What’s so terrible about it?” 

She spins, staring at the brunette in disbelief. “Kenny G? Enya?” 

Regina sticks her nose in the air, a bit of the nobility seeping into her voice as she says haughtily, “I find them to be quite talented.” 

“Ugh,” and Emma can’t take it anymore. She just hangs on to Regina’s hand and drags her to the car. 

** 

They stop off at Fox & Hound Records, the one and only place to buy music in Storybrooke. Cassette tapes and 8-tracks line each of the walls floor-to-ceiling in the narrow store, and Emma knows it’s too much to hope for that they’ll have some CDs. Instead, she focuses her attention on the 3 skinny aisles of records set up in the middle of the place. 

She spots Ruby on the far end of the store and smiles. Ruby gives them both a nod and a smile, and Emma watches as her eyes drift. When they do, she realizes she’s still dragging Regina by the hand, and she severs the contact immediately, just barely glimpsing the smirk on Ruby’s lips before they start perusing. 

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here,” Regina grouses, and Emma doesn’t have the heart to tell her outright that her taste in music kinda sucks. 

“We’re here to find some music that we’ll both like.” 

She can feel Regina folding her arms across her chest without looking at her. “And you’re so sure you know what my taste in music is just from seeing a few albums.” 

Emma widens her eyes, thinking of the Kenny G Greatest Hits album she’d seen, and answers, “Uh yeah, I think I can say exactly what your taste in music is.” _And it sucks_ , finishes the part of her that doesn’t want to hurt Regina’s feelings. 

She can tell Ruby’s watching them every few seconds as they make their way up and down the aisles, though she can’t figure out why. She wonders if maybe her mother is having them spied on. 

Though Mary Margaret doesn’t outwardly bristle at the idea of Emma spending a lot of time with Regina, she doesn’t embrace it either. She’s just sort of… stopped talking about it. Maybe she’s pretending it’s not happening. 

David, on the other hand, is much more understanding. He seems to be in Emma’s camp, believing that Regina having a friend can only do good things for her and for Storybrooke as a whole. And of course Henry loves the fact that his mothers are so chummy. Anytime he sees them together, he’s all smiles. 

She leafs through the sections of albums, surprised to find much more modern music available other than just 80s and 90s. And what’s difficult isn’t trying to narrow down what she wants to listen to, no – there’s plenty there. It’s trying to figure out what Regina isn’t going to huff and puff at. 

She pulls up suggestions for her friend and Regina shakes her head. The two of them banter over band names and album covers, nudging and giggling, and it’s actually kinda fun. By the time Regina begs her to finish up, she’s got a decent pile of music in her arms. 

The clerk at the register sounds off each of the bands she’s chosen, nodding in approval at some and looking ambivalent at others. 

“Alright, let’s see here… The Sundays, Bif Naked – nice – some Rachael Yamagata, a little Cibo Matto...” and by the time he’s finished ringing them up Emma’s pretty certain she’ll be turning over half her paycheck. 

“Twelve bucks,” the clerk tells her, and she hands over her money in surprise. Then he folds all her albums into a paper bag and hands it over, and Regina’s looking pretty antsy by this point. 

Emma can’t help but laugh at her as they head to the car. “Got somewhere to be?” 

“Yes – anywhere but here!” Regina throws her an impatient look. “Ruby was staring at us the entire time we were in there.” 

Ah, so she noticed that too. “Probably wondering what you’re doing in a music store.” 

“ _Or_ your mother is having her keep an eye on us.” 

Emma tilts her head, uncertain whether or not to acknowledge that she had a similar notion. “Mary Margaret’s not really the sneaky type.” 

“Oh you’d be surprised what your mother is capable of,” Regina tells her. 

“Let’s stop talking about this,” she sighs. They barely discuss it, and yet anytime the ongoing battle between Regina and her mother comes up, Emma’s instantly sick of hearing about it. 

They head back to the estate with barely a word spoken between them. When they get inside, Regina goes to get the pizza from the oven and Emma takes the records in to the study. 

“I have a player in the den as well!” Regina calls. “Let’s set up in there.” 

So Emma abides by her suggestion, and soon they’re settled on the floor, eating pizza off the granite coffee table and listening to The Sundays. Regina, surprisingly, keeps an open mind, and actually visibly enjoys a lot of the music. They get through half the pizza before she breaks out a bottle of wine. 

“Classy,” Emma jokes, holding up her next slice, and Regina feigns a curtsy, bringing the bottle and two glasses to the table. 

The evening is fun, but there’s an undercurrent of something there that Emma can’t quite figure out. Regina seems… sad, almost. But maybe that’s not it. 

“Hey.” Emma snags her hand, tangling their fingers. When she’s gained Regina’s attention, she raises her brows. “Everything okay with you? You…” she contemplates how to put her behavior into words and finally settles on, “haven’t been acting like yourself since lunch.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I just…” Regina looks down at their hands, and when Emma feels the brunette’s fingers stroking the back of her hand, she looks down too. “I just don’t like the idea of you traveling with Gold.” Meeting her eyes, she tells her, “There’s no telling what he’ll do to find his son.” 

And Emma smirks, trying to keep the mood light. “What, are you worried about me?” 

But Regina’s apparently not in a playful mood. “A bit, yes.” 

Her breath catches a bit at the unexpected admission, but she forges past it. “Regina, I’m gonna be just fine.” She releases her hand, the contact suddenly a little too intense for reasons she can’t quite understand. “If anything, it’s Gold you should be worried about. He’s never been out in the real world.” 

Where is this coming from? Regina, queen of sass and swagger, is suddenly a frightened doe when faced with Emma leaving? It doesn’t add up. 

“Hey, y’know what?” She looks at the clock. “We still have a good 24 hours before I have to head to the airport with Gold. Let’s lighten things up a little. We can play games!” 

Regina relaxes a bit at the suggestion, eyebrow curling upward. “Such as?” 

“I saw a chess set in the study. I never played before. You could teach me.” And at the words ‘I never,’ an idea strikes Emma. “Ooh! Better yet, let’s play chess _and_ ‘Never Have I Ever’!”

Regina smiles. “I believe that’s one you’ll have to teach me in return, then.” 

** 

It’s ludicrous. The very idea of what they’re doing is ludicrous. It would have been ludicrous a year ago when they weren’t friends, and it’s still ludicrous now. She’s sitting in Regina’s den, the two of them next to each other with a corner of her granite coffee table between them, simultaneously playing chess and ‘Never Have I Ever.’ The only times they’ve gotten up have been for bathroom breaks, more liquor or to change the record. 

“Okay okay, my turn!” Emma says, sliding a pawn forward. Regina demolishes it with her bishop without even blinking and she takes a hold of her shot glass. “Never have I ever rode a horse.” 

Regina takes a drink from her shot glass. “Fine. You know, I could teach you someday if you’re willing to learn. I’m sure Henry would let you borrow his horse.” 

She shakes her head. “Still can’t believe that kid has his own horse.” 

“Again, that was your father’s doing,” Regina tells her. “I had nothing to do with it. And I think I’m very nearly read to return to the stables. So long as there are no dead lovers of mine needing to be dealt with.” She fills her shot glass again and raises it in a toast. 

“It’s your turn,” Emma smirks. It’s been more than a month since Regina told her about the whole debacle with Doctor Whale, and it seems getting it off her chest had been just what she needed in order to cope with it. 

“Fine. I’ve never—“ 

“Uh-uh!” Emma stops her, a teasing grin on her face. 

Regina rolls her eyes and plays along. “’Never have I ever’…” Then she sighs, “I don’t know, slow-danced.” 

Emma knocks back her shot easily. She can’t help but think that if this were hard liquor rather than wine they’re pounding, they’d both be plastered by now. “Seriously? I would’ve figured grand royal balls would’ve had plenty of dancing!” And though they’re not knocking back hard liquor, things feel a little fuzzy from the wine. She fights to hold on to her maturity at her wording. 

As if reading her thoughts, Regina smirks. “Thank you for not giggling at the word ‘balls,’’ she sighs. “And those are a very different matter. That’s the waltz, and other forms of ballroom dancing. I’ve never had a real, simple, slow dance with anyone.” 

“Oh wow. Well that’s easy, c’mere!” She gets to her feet and gestures for Regina to do the same. 

The brief look of alarm that crosses the brunette’s features is one she wants to question, but it disappears before she can. “What? With you?” 

Emma shrugs. “Why not? We’re best friends. Best friends can slow dance.” Probably. Maybe.

Actually, no, they probably shouldn't.

Her Bif Naked album spins on the record player now and Regina gets to her feet. They stand face-to-face, and the brunette still looks pretty unsure of herself. It’s kinda fun to see her like this. “Well… alright.” 

“Now normally, the guy is supposed to put his hands around your waist and you’re supposed to put yours around his shoulders and then you get close.” 

If possible, Regina looks even more alarmed. 

Emma decides to take pity on her and ease some of the tension. “It’s basically a really long hug where you sway back and forth.” 

“A hug,” Regina repeats, head dipping as she regards her through her lashes. She gives that idea some thought momentarily, before she nods. “That’s… that’s fine, then.” 

Emma’s favorite song on the album, “Lucky,” begins to play and she gives Regina a reassuring glance, teasing her, “I won’t grope you like a guy would, I promise.” 

And predictably, Regina’s eyes roll so quickly that she thinks they might fall out of her head. “Oh no, and here I was hoping for a little action.” 

Her tone drips with sarcasm, and Emma thinks she sees a hint of something in her brown eyes but she ignores it. She wraps her arms under Regina’s and waits for her to wrap her arms around her shoulders. For a moment she thinks they’re just going to hug, and then slowly they start to sway. 

The singer laments on knowing how they’re the lucky ones, and Emma feels very warm. She closes her eyes a moment and feels Regina breathing against her. The half-bottle of wine they’ve consumed already is giving her just enough of a fuzzy mentality that she feels as if she’s in a warm bubble. 

“This is it?” Regina asks, and her voice is thick and slow. She thinks she might even have her eyes closed too. 

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, and realizes all at once that her head is on Regina’s shoulder. “Not so bad, right?” 

“Not at all,” Regina says quietly. 

There’s something in her tone that Emma can’t quite place. It’s the same inexplicable something that she saw in her behavior after lunch, at the music store and during dinner. Like she was still being Regina but… a little different. 

She opens her eyes. Maybe now’s a good time to ask, when they’ve both loosened up and had what’s essentially just a super long hug with some swaying. And a nice hug at that. She feels like her feet aren’t even touching the floor anymore. 

When she lifts her head, realization hits her swiftly – her feet _aren’t_ touching the floor. Nor are Regina’s. Somehow in the midst of their hug, slow dance, whatever the hell it ended up being, they levitated off the ground by about four feet. 

She pulls away exclaiming, “What the hell?!” and it seems to jar Regina out of her wine-induced trance too. Then she hears her gasp and they both tumble to the floor, narrowly missing the corner of the coffee table. 

They stare at each other as they each prop themselves up. “Did you see—“ 

Regina nods, “I did…” 

“Did you—“ 

“I didn’t do that.” Regina looks to her. “Did you?” 

“I wouldn’t even know how!” 

Things get pretty awkward for the next few minutes. Furtive glances are exchanged as sore areas that hit the floor are massaged. After what seems like hours, Emma breaks the silence. “Did we just… make magic?” 

Regina draws in a breath, raising her eyebrows. “It wouldn’t be the first time, now would it?” 

The image of a hat and a swirling purple mist enters her mind’s eye, and she shakes her head wordlessly. They stare at one another for a moment, before Regina clears her throat and averts her gaze. “So, should we continue our game?” 

Emma studies her. Are her cheeks pink? And did they seriously just freaking _levitate_ during a simple little slow dance? “Uh… yeah, we probably should.” 

**

 

Things are considerably tenser when they resume their game of chess. Bif Naked is switched out for the Cibo Matto album she'd bought, and 'Sugar Water' starts to play. 

The song is.... slightly more sensual than she'd like during such a tense moment. It's making her consider things she shouldn't be considering. She watches Regina survey the chess board; one hand hovers over the marble chess pieces, swirling over the queen and then the knight and the bishop as she contemplates her move. The other is busy toying with the collar of her red silk shirt, pulling at it and then tickling along her neck. 

Stupid Cibo Matto. 

Emma draws her eyes up to Regina's face next. Her lips are pursed in concentration, and the lower one juts out just slightly. 

"I think it's my turn," Emma says suddenly, surprising even herself. 

Regina's concentration breaks slowly, and she looks up. "It's still my turn." 

Emma swallows, and holy crap her throat is dry all of a sudden; in very much the same way as when she's about to do something monumentally stupid. "I meant for the 'Never Have I Ever.'" 

Regina smiles indulgently. "Very well, go ahead." 

Whether it's Cibo Matto, Regina's unusual behavior all day, the fact that she's leaving town in 24 hours, or something else entirely -- something inexplicable -- Emma feels a bit of recklessness sliding down her spine. 

"Never have I ever kissed a woman," she blurts out, and it knocks the smile right off Regina's face.

 

**TBC**


	12. Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She knows Emma has noticed her behavior throughout the day, and mostly she’s shrugged it off simply because the catalyst is too much for her to think about right now. But not wanting to think about it only seems to intensify what’s there, and what’s there is frightening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short, but I wanted to get SOMETHING posted tonight!

***** 

The queen has fallen. And it’s in the literal sense this time, as Emma’s suggestion for the ‘Never’ game stops Regina cold. The smile, previously on her face, is wiped clean off. Her hand flinches over the chess board, knocking the queen on its side. 

She watches the marble piece roll, nudging aside a pawn, as Emma’s words sink in. _Never have I ever kissed a woman._

It certainly ups the ante from Regina’s last ‘never,’ but she had been unaware that this game was supposed to escalate. “What?” she asks, for lack of any other words. 

Emma edges up on her knees, an elbow on the coffee table. “You heard me.” 

Why is she suddenly being so bold? Certainly the song playing carries a provocative beat and tune, but that can’t be the only thing spurring this advance. 

She knows Emma has noticed her behavior throughout the day, and mostly she’s shrugged it off simply because the catalyst is too much for her to think about right now. But not wanting to think about it only seems to intensify what’s there, and what’s there is frightening. 

She’s developed feelings for Emma Swan. It’s difficult to pinpoint when exactly it happened, but it’s there nonetheless. She looks forward to seeing her, her heart skips like mad whenever her hand or arm is in Emma’s grasp, and she doesn’t want her to leave town. 

And now, with the mention of a kiss, she’s experiencing the very same polarizing emotions she’d experienced when she thought Daniel was about to kiss her for the first time: sheer terror combined with almost combustible excitement. 

“Regina?” 

Is this actually happening? Some aspect of this insanity has to be a dream. Or a nightmare. She’s fallen victim to a curse and is living in an alternate world where she and Emma Swan are friends, and she’s developed a schoolgirl crush on her. It’s completely absurd. 

Still, she takes the shot glass in a shaking hand and throws it back, meeting Emma’s saucer-wide eyes. 

“You’ve…” 

The question dangles and she nods. Yes, she’s kissed women. 

Her time as a widowed queen, before she began plotting her curse, brought her many suitors. Mostly men, though there were the occasional handmaidens that would alter her form-fitting dresses with lust in their eyes. It never meant anything to her. They were just… warm bodies. 

Warm bodies to fill her bed. Desperate mouths and beating hearts to fill the void left by Daniel – reminders of human contact before vengeance consumed her every pore. But they never meant anything to her. But this is quite different. 

This one means something. 

“I find it hard to believe that you _haven’t_ ,” Regina shoots back, gripping the granite coffee table for support. Her heart is thundering and they can’t do this – they mustn’t do this. 

“Well… not outside a game of Truth or Dare, no. But Truth or Dare doesn't count.” Emma’s eyes flick down to her lips and back up again. 

Whatever game Emma’s playing right now, Regina is going to lose. She’s already lost her dignity in becoming friends with this woman that always tried to get under her skin. Her sanity was lost when feelings began to develop. Who knows what she’ll lose if their lips meet? 

And whatever is making the blonde advance their relationship in this way, Regina knows it’s fleeting. It’s an urge that will pass before the night is through. 

_She doesn't feel the same way and this cannot happen._

Still, she finds herself craving the contact. She turns the queen upright again, though she herself continues to feel as if she's upside down. Nothing about this entire day and this night makes any sense. Except, strangely, when they woke up together in her bed that morning. Unfortunately, that made perfect sense. 

"Regina..." 

She blinks herself back to coherency, meeting Emma's eyes. "Yes. Right. Well, seeing as how you gave me an introduction to the art of slow-dancing..." 

Emma raises her brows. "Yeah, that was nothing like the slow-dancing I did in junior high. Or high school. Never levitated before." 

"Still. I suppose it's my duty to... introduce you to this." 

The look of excitement lighting Emma's eyes is unmistakable, and Regina wonders if even Emma herself is aware of what she's feeling, if anything. At the very least, Regina assumes it's attraction. But then, that's nothing new. 

Even when they met there was a strangely-charged energy there. The blonde's eyes had swept over her, and Regina had let her own eyes wander. But then the animosity set in and any initial attraction was forgotten. 

Now, it seems, the sheriff is remembering. 

Regina takes a breath and steels herself -- whatever's about to happen isn't going to end well. She scoots a little closer, her eyes going to Emma's lips as she begins to lean in. It's only going to hurt her, in the end. Their lips are a breath away. 

She never claimed not to be a masochist. 

With the lightest touch, she grazes Emma's lips with her own, feeling them instantly fall open. She sucks in a breath as inaudibly as she can and then takes the bottom lip between both of hers. Her blood begins to boil. 

Emma tastes like wine and the faintest trace of spice. Regina feels warm all over, a wonderful kind of numbness settling in at the top of her head and sliding down to her toes. She opens her eyes, just halfway, just to peek at Emma. 

When she does, she finds the blonde's hand braced on the couch, clenching into a shaking fist. Regina moves to cover that hand with her own and when Emma suddenly leans into her and devours her mouth, she quickly discovers what she's about to lose: 

_Control_. 

The entire room spins and Regina lands on her back roughly. Emma's hand behind her head acts as a cushion and there's a clash of tongues and teeth. The kiss is electric, so much so that Regina swears she can hear small bolts of electricity, literal sparks flying between them. Everything explodes in a haze of swirling violet and blue and she feels airbone, only brought back to earth when Emma slides on top of her, nestling into the cradle of her hips. 

The kiss breaks with a loud smack and her head lolls to the side, her exposed neck instantly covered with hot, wet kisses. She wants everything the blonde is willing to give -- if it's not love now and never will be then at least she can have lust. It will never be enough, but it feels like it could be for now and she just wants to enjoy this as long as it lasts. Her eyes slip closed as she lets the savior's name slide from between her lips. 

"Emma..." 

And that's what breaks the spell. Reality seems to come crashing back to Emma all at once and she rips herself away with a string of curse words and "Oh God" and a repetitive stream of apologies. 

The violet and blue clouds fade, and she thinks Emma didn't even notice they were there. Unless they were her imagination? 

She blinks, trying to get things to come into focus through the fog of desire, and she pushes herself up. "What?" 

"God, what the hell am I doing." Emma doesn't just back up -- she scrambles to her feet, eyes vacant and mouth agape. 

Regina just stares, her arms feeble from whatever has just happened, and she struggles to get to her feet. "Wait..." 

"No. God, this is all my fault." She looks up, her eyes wide. "Regina, I am so sorry." 

Her stomach drops, though there's a part of her that expected such an outcome. All she can think to say is, "Please stay. Let's talk about this." 

Emma shakes her head, her blonde hair in tangles, and Regina just realizes now that she'd had her hands stuffed in it and rumpling it during their kiss. 

"I can't, I..." She's breathless, and her face and chest are flushed. She meets her eyes and her expression is shuttered, a far-off look in her eyes. She's in fight-or-flight mode, and the Emma Swan she's grown accustomed to always errs on the side of a fight. "I have to go." 

Though not this time, apparently. 

And she's gone before Regina can gather enough strength to react. Then she's left staring at an empty den -- at the chess game half-finished and the wine bottle with just enough left to fill another void. Regina grabs it by the neck and takes a gulp, damning her masochistic side. 

One of the records Emma purchased is still spinning, that hauntingly seductive melody still flowing through the speakers. She walks over to it and looks down at the record, flicking the needle from it just hard enough to scratch. 

Then she leaves it all behind -- the open pizza box, the chess game, the albums scattered about and the turned-over shot glasses. None matter in that moment. The neck of the wine bottle dangles between her fingertips as she ascends the staircase slowly, methodically, each step replaying a moment downstairs. 

Three steps up and they're levitating, holding on to one another with peaceful smiles. Two more and Emma's staring at her lips; another three and she's on her back seeing swirls of violet and blue magic surrounding them. 

She gets into bed without changing her clothes and rolls onto her side. She stares at the empty side that Emma occupied little more than twelve hours before. Then she guzzles the rest of the wine and waits for sleep to take her away.

 

**TBC**


	13. Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She feels terrible for leaving like she did – Regina looked so distraught, and she thinks she may have seen a hint of moisture in her eyes as she begged her to stay, to talk through what they did. But she couldn't. At the time, Regina was the source of her turmoil, and she needed space fast.

*****

Emma’s stomach is in knots the entire drive home, for too many reasons for her to even pinpoint yet. She hopes for solitude and, upon entering the loft, she remembers that everyone else in the house is gone for the night – Mary Margaret and Henry are at the Storybrooke Elementary lock-in, and David is at the station. For the first time in a long time, she has the place all to herself.

She looks around, taking in the silence as she slips her jacket off. She’s too numb to hang it up, and the events of the evening catch up with her all at once. It hits her in waves of images:

The record store. The chess game. The wine and ‘Never Have I Ever.’ The slow dance that somehow created magic and then the Cibo Matto song that gave her the urge to take things further. The way Regina had played with the collar of her shirt and plotted her next move that left Emma with a dry mouth. Then the buildup to the kiss and the way Regina covering her hand made her suddenly snap and tackle her on the floor. 

The waves of images are soon replaced with waves of nausea, and she runs to the bathroom. She drops to her knees in front of the toilet just as her muscles lock and everything is let loose.

What the hell has she done? Regina’s her best friend in Storybrooke – possibly the best friend she’s ever had, and she just hauls off and forces a kiss? What the _hell_ was she thinking?

When the first wave passes, she collapses against the cool porcelain, outstretching her arm under her head. Her nose is running from throwing up and she can still taste more in the back of her throat. It’s pizza and wine and maybe bits of their lunch at the deli when Regina started acting weird. It tastes bitter and awful and a lot like regret. 

Seriously – what the hell has she done?

And she feels terrible for leaving like she did – Regina looked so distraught, and she thinks she may have seen a hint of moisture in her eyes as she begged her to stay, to talk through what they did. But she couldn’t. At the time, Regina was the source of her turmoil, and she needed space fast. 

She swallows hard, another wave hitting her as she closes her eyes and remembers the way Regina kissed her – languid, fluid and sensual. She’s kissed women when it didn’t count, when it was just a dare, and that was so much different. Those kisses were fun; they were naughty and she felt rebellious and liberated. This was… definitely not that.

Regina’s kiss was… evocative. It reminded her of when they met – how she instantly thought the brunette was gorgeous, until the acrimony took center stage between them. It reminded her of taking a chainsaw to Regina’s beloved apple tree and relishing the way they invaded one another’s space in each and every showdown.

Her kiss was explosive. It made her remember just how much Regina drove her nuts sometimes and how much she really wanted to drive her nuts in return. It brought to head every word of vitriol ever exchanged and every glare, every callous passing remark. 

But there was also something weirdly tender about it. There was a very obvious relinquishing of control from the brunette that spoke of how much their relationship has changed – it reminded her of long nights spent talking, and double-vision from too much scotch and fits of the giggles and taking one another’s hands for support. It was every time Regina let down her guard, every hug, every night they fell asleep together.

And it’s that thought that pulls her to her feet again. She wipes her mouth and flushes the toilet and then goes over to rinse her face, remembering the way Regina did the very same when they woke up hungover together. She pulls her hair away from her neck and closes her eyes, remembering the way Regina’s slid through the same strands when she’d been doubled over her sink.

Emma braces her hands on the porcelain countertop in the bathroom and stares at her reflection. They’ve been through so much already. 

That’s why what happened tonight can _never_ happen again.

She heads to bed with resoluteness in every step. She crawls in fully-clothed while her mind’s eye plays back the way Regina’s head had lolled to the side, so willing and wanton.

_Never again._

She turns on her side and shuts her eyes tight, promising herself that she’ll talk to Regina tomorrow before she leaves. She needs to atone for her stupid impulse and beg for forgiveness, beg her to remain friends. She can’t lose her as a friend.

Besides, it wasn’t as if the kiss meant anything to Regina either.

 

*****

The next day, Emma is jarred awake by the sounds of Mary Margaret and Henry returning from the lock-in. She can hear her mother shushing Henry, who seems way too excited for having been locked in his school all night, and then they rummage around in the kitchen.

She throws the covers off and sits up, her clothes sticking to her unpleasantly. She needs a shower… and a cold one at that. Her dreams decided to screw with her head all night, throwing sexual encounters at her with Regina in a starring role. She shakes her head at herself.

They’re just friends. And it’s not like she hasn’t had the occasional sex dream about the mayor before. Particularly, before the curse broke and Regina was at her bitchiest. It served to get the frustration out back then, if nothing more. It never meant anything. And it doesn’t mean anything now.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Mary Margaret finds her, leaning against the underside of the stairs. Her eyes sweep over her attire and she frowns. “You slept in your clothes?”

“Oh.” Emma glances down at herself, feigning ignorance. “Yeah. Must’ve been too tired last night to change.”

Mary Margaret is still frowning, and opens her mouth to question further, but Henry interrupts and dive-bombs onto the bed. 

“Emma, you’re here! Wanna take me to the park?”

She smiles, ruffling her son’s hair. “Maybe in a little while, kid. Had a rough night last night, so I might go out for coffee.”

“Everything okay?” Mary Margaret asks. “I kinda thought you’d be spending the night with Regina.”

“What do you mean spending the night?” she asks, a sudden bite to her tone. Jesus, her mother just really needs to lose the passive-aggressive crap. 

Mary Margaret opens and closes her mouth, taken aback, before she slowly replies, “I just… meant… that since it’s your last night in town for a little while, that you’d want to spend some time with her.”

“Why would you think that? We’re not married to each other!” she exclaims, and God why is she getting the third-degree?!

She watches Henry’s eyes widen, and he looks up to his grandmother. She looks at him, then back at her. “Emma, are you sure everything’s alright? You act like you’re being interrogated.”

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” she widens her eyes, “because you’re interrogating me!”

Henry seems to want to avoid the friction, and slides off of the bed. “I’m gonna go get some cereal.”

“Thank you,” Mary Margaret sighs, and waits until he’s out of earshot before she turns back to Emma and sits on the bed. Her voice lowers several decibels, to the point where Emma practically has to learn to lip read. “Emma, I am not interrogating you. I have made my peace with you and Regina being friends, and I mean that.”

“Really.” Skepticism leaches from her tone, and she gives her mother a dubious look.

“Yes, really. I was worried at first, but… David and Henry have helped me see the light, so to speak. Regina has been making a solid effort to change, and I think that’s largely due to having a friend who believes in her.”

Emma just folds her arms. Jesus, her mother is _really_ transparent.

“Now…” She tries again. “All I meant by what I said, is… you and Regina have been spending a lot of time together. And I’m sure, you leaving town will be an adjustment for the both of you. I had assumed that you would want to have one last get-together before you left.” She holds up her hands. “That’s all I meant.”

“Well, we did. We had our get-together, and…” _made out a little bit and I kinda screwed things up, and…_ “then I came home to get some sleep.”

“Okay.” She leans in a bit. “You know, that was all you would’ve had to have said. I know things have been tense between us lately because of this friendship you’ve been cultivating, but…” She smiles, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’d really like to put that behind us.”

Emma stares at her mother for a moment, putting her human-lie-detector skills to good use. After a moment, she sighs. What she sees there is genuine. “I’d like that too,” she says, and looks to her lap.

“And I really would like to hear how things are going. It seems like you two are really getting along.”

_Oh yeah, we’re thick as thieves. By the way, we slow-danced last night and then I made her kiss me and we ended up making out on the floor. Also I’m pretty sure I almost got to second base with her. So that’s how things are going with us. How are you?_

Out loud, she tells her mother, “It’s difficult sometimes, but we’re doing it.” And then she instantly regrets her choice of words, because it brings to mind her dream from last night, and… hoo boy, she needs to get out of here. “I _really_ need some coffee right now, though, so I think I’m gonna head to Granny’s.”

“Can I come?” Henry asks from the counter, and Emma wonders just how long he’s been eavesdropping.

“No,” she smiles as best she can, “You need to pack for your mom’s. I’ll be back in a bit.”

**

When she gets to Granny’s, it’s the usual crew. A couple of guys from the docks – either just starting their day or just ending it, and a hungover-looking Leroy. She slides onto a stool at the counter and Ruby is on her right away with a smile way too bright for all the mistakes Emma made last night.

“Hey, Emma! Cocoa or coffee for today?”

“Coffee,” Emma groans, scrubbing her hands over her face. “High-octane if you’ve got it.”

Ruby winks. “Comin’ right up.”

In less than fifteen seconds, she returns with a steaming mug of coffee, sliding it across the counter. Emma takes it with a grateful but exhausted smile, and takes a gulp regardless of the scalding temperature. Who cares about having taste buds?

Ruby watches her, then leans on the counter and tells her, “You missed Regina.”

The coffee almost ends up all over Ruby’s face, but somehow Emma manages to choke it down. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ruby’s eyes widen just a little. “I mean, she was just here, like… five minutes ago.” And she gestures absently toward the door.

“Oh. Okay.” Emma focuses on her coffee again, still able to feel Ruby’s eyes on her.

“She looked kinda sad.” She tilts her head and adds, “Which I thought was kinda weird, because when I saw you guys at the record store yesterday, she looked like she was having a great time.”

“Really.” Playing dumb is really the best option right now. Because even though she doesn’t wanna talk about it, at the same time she’d love to spill her guts. 

“Yeah. Something happen between you guys?”

“Like what?” God she really hopes her face isn’t turning red…

Ruby just watches her for a second, then shrugs. “I dunno, did you get in a fight?”

“No, definitely not.” _Shit. Just look at your coffee mug, Emma. Do not say another word._

“Oh.” 

She can feel Ruby’s eyes on her, but luckily that’s when one of her tables gestures for their check, and she excuses herself. Emma steals the opportunity to throw money down for her coffee along with a generous tip (hush money, maybe?), before she rushes out of the diner.

 

*****

She somehow survives the rest of the afternoon without any more freakouts in front of Mary Margaret; Henry keeps asking questions and telling her she’s “being weird” but she just plays it off. Before long, she’s packing a bag and getting Henry ready to go, and it hits her: she has to see Regina again before she leaves.

 _Shit_.

“Emma?” Henry looks up at her as they near the Bug. “Are you nervous about flying?”

 _Nope, just about seeing your mother again._ “No, why?”

He shrugs, squinting up at her. “I dunno. Nevermind.”

She tries not to heave a sigh of relief in front of him, and instead waits until he’s in the car and she’s going around to the driver’s side. The trip to Regina’s is mostly quiet. Henry fiddles with the radio and asks her if she’ll bring him back a souvenir. She promises she will while simultaneously trying to figure out what the hell she’ll say to Regina when she sees her again.

And then all at once, they’re there in front of 108 Mifflin and Henry’s jumping out of the car with his things while Emma stares at the house. Just like the first time she ever went to hang out with Regina. 

“Are you coming?” he calls back to her as he races up to the door.

For a moment, she seriously considers telling him to go in without her and then taking off for the pawn shop. She still hasn’t figured out what to say. And she still doesn’t want to talk about it.

But then she sees Henry reaching the door and it swings open and Regina steps out, immediately swooping her son into a hug. His arms are around her waist and one of hers is on his back, the other in his hair; her smile is so serene and calm it gives Emma the strength she was needing to drag herself out of the car.

When the driver’s side door slams, Regina’s brown locks fly as she looks up. And suddenly the smile is gone. It’s not a frown and it’s not a glare, it’s… something else. Something that Emma’s never seen on Regina before, so she tries to figure out what it is as she makes her way up the walk.

“Hey,” she says, giving her a smile that she hopes doesn’t look too awkward. She shoves her hands in her back pockets. 

A soft, barely there smile touches Regina’s lips and she murmurs, “Hi,” like they’re seeing each other for the first time in ten years.

Then there’s Henry, watching them both and breaking the tension with a bright smile and an enthusiastic, “Hi!”

Regina dips her head, smirking, and then looks to her son. “Henry, why don’t you go put your things away in your room.”

The look on his face screams that he’d rather stay and watch whatever is happening here, but he seems to at least register the fact that they want to talk in private. So he huffs out a crestfallen, “Okay,” and drags his backpack behind him as he goes inside.

They both watch him go, then Regina grabs the door handle and pulls it mostly shut behind her. Then, she looks up at her, a smile playing on her lips now. She greets her again, “Hi,” and this time it’s a bashful sort of sound.

“Hey,” she echoes, and seeing Regina’s face has kind of helped her get over not wanting to talk about all of this. It’s been a little more than twelve hours, and already she feels disconnected from her. It’s weird, even to her, but she misses her best friend. “Listen, I—“

But then Regina’s arms are around her neck and she’s almost thrown off-balance by the momentum of the embrace. It’s so startling that she chuckles, wrapping her arms around Regina. “Okay, wow, so apparently we’re still friends?” she asks, her breath puffing out pieces of brown hair.

“Yes.” Regina pulls back, her hands sliding down Emma’s arms until she’s gripping her hands. “I know what you were going to say, and… I feel the same way.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “You do?” And like that, the humongous weight on her shoulders falls away. “Oh good. And listen, I’m really sorry… about—“

“No, it’s my fault.” Regina squeezes her hands. “I knew it was a bad idea, and… _I’m_ sorry.”

Wow, this is… so not what she was expecting. But the relief makes her feel so heady she just can’t stop talking. “No it’s okay, I mean, I’m just glad we’re on the same page! I mean what we did was—“

“Stupid,” Regina finishes, a sudden gorgeous smile on her face as she shakes her head and sighs out, “I know.”

Emma nods, not seeing Regina’s eyes flit to her lips as she keeps going and says, “Yeah, and impulsive, and just… a _huge_ mistake. Right? I mean… experimentation can be fun, but…” She reaches out and touches the ends of Regina’s hair, taking a lock between her fingers. “I can’t do that with you, never with you.”

A little bit of the enthusiasm drains from Regina’s expression, but her tone is still upbeat. “Right, I… I know.”

“We’ve got such a great rapport right now, I just… really don’t wanna lose that doing stupid stuff.”

“Nor do I.”

“Great! Good.” Well, she certainly feels better. And Regina’s smile isn’t as bright, but she’s pretty sure that she feels better, too. She looks down at her shoes, kind of wanting to jump for joy. “I’m just so glad you don’t hate me.”

“No,” Regina replies, and it’s soft. “I don’t hate you, Emma.”

She looks up, giving Regina a smile. “Good.” But something about the way Regina said that seemed a little… different. So she just wants to make sure. “So… we’re okay?”

Regina nods, and Emma can’t resist hugging her again, this time with her arms around Regina’s shoulders. She lets out a little sigh and closes her eyes, beyond relieved. And she feels Regina’s chin resting on her shoulder, her hands gripping her leather jacket at her lower back. She almost thinks she can feel a quiver in Regina’s chin against her shoulder, but when she pulls away, Regina’s all smiles again.

Emma takes her hands and squeezes them. “I’ll see you in a few days, okay?” To herself she says, “I _really_ hope it won’t be more than that. Might have to kill Gold.”

Regina raises her brows. “No complaints here should it come to that.” After a beat, she adds, “But please do call if you’ll be longer than expected.”

She smiles. “I’ll call anyway and let you know how things are going.”

“Thank you.”

Then there’s nothing left to do but say goodbye. Talking to Regina turned out way better than she ever could’ve anticipated, and she feels pretty bouncy. So she gives her hand another squeeze and, on a whim, a peck on the cheek. “See ya soon.”

“Bye,” Regina murmurs, and Emma turns to leave.

She heads down the walk with a spring in her step – not exactly excited about her trip because, hey, she still has to spend time with Gold – but pleased that she and Regina are back to normal.

And as she drives off toward the pawn shop, she remains blissfully unaware of how sad Regina looks, standing on the front step watching her go.

 

**TBC**


	14. Resolute

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma doesn't wear lipstick but it still feels as though she's left a mark. She thinks there may still be some invisible ones on her neck from last night as well.

***** 

It takes until that little yellow death-trap rounds the corner out of sight for Regina to swallow the emotion rising in her throat. The feel of Emma's lips on her cheek remains and part of her wishes to reach up and wipe it away. Emma doesn't wear lipstick but it still feels as though she's left a mark. She thinks there may still be some invisible ones on her neck from last night as well. 

Whatever just happened, it had been completely unexpected. Her original plan was to avoid Emma as long as possible. She had known she'd be dropping Henry off, but she could have just hid in her room, or perhaps faked an illness. 

But she couldn't resist going down to greet her son. And when she saw Emma get out of the car, the look on her face gave her hope. Emma couldn't keep her eyes off her, and she took that as a good sign. And when Henry had gone inside, she couldn't contain herself anymore. She had to reach out and embrace her. 

_"I know what you were going to say, and... I feel the same way."_ She thought it was obvious -- the way Emma looked at her, and at her lips... 

They spit out their perfunctory apologies, even though Regina wasn't sorry and it looked like Emma wasn't either. 

_"What we did was--"_

_"Stupid, I know."_ She'd been unable to stop the euphoric, idiotic grin on her face. It had been going better than she ever could have anticipated. Maybe she _did_ feel the same, and just needed a little space to figure it out. 

_"Yeah, and impulsive, and just... a_ huge _mistake. Right?"_

And then the happy little balloon... that pink heart-shaped balloon floating over Regina's head popped. And she wondered how she could've been so foolish. 

Then Emma was hugging her again and Regina was fighting to hang on to any scrap of dignity she could find, while at the same time trying to soak up the feel of her best friend in her arms -- her hands clung to leather and her chin quivered on her shoulder. 

She needed her inner mantra -- the one she'd carried with her since the stables -- to pull her out of it. 

_Love is weakness, Regina._

"Mom?" 

The front door, still partly-closed, swings open again and Henry leans outside. "Emma's gone." 

She nods, still watching the street. "Yes, I know." 

"Are you coming in?" 

She swallows the last vestiges of disappointment and collects herself. She repeats her mantra one more time and throws her shoulders back, turning to her son with a restrained smile. "Of course. Let's go." 

Her arm falls over his shoulder and hugs him against her side. He goes willingly, so different from last year and while it feels wonderful, her heart still feels partially-empty. They walk toward the kitchen, her intent being to get him a snack, and she feels him looking up at her. 

"Are you okay?" 

He's always been such a perceptive little boy; it's one of the things she loves most about him. 

_Clearly, he didn't get it from his mother._

She smiles down at him and she hopes the expression isn't as hollow as she is in that moment. "Of course, sweetheart." 

"What's going on with you guys?" 

She swallows, forcing an impassive look. "What do you mean?" 

"What were you guys apologizing about?" 

Regina chastises him with a look as she opens the refrigerator, taking out a pitcher of lemonade. "Henry..." she intones, and he knows what that voice means. 

He ducks his head and looks at her through his lashes. He's adorable when he does this and he knows it; she's had to build up an immunity to it over the years. 

She arches a brow pointedly and asks him, "What have I told you about eavesdropping?" 

"It's not nice and I shouldn't do it." 

She nods, tilting her head. "So then why, may I ask, did you do it?" 

He takes the glass of lemonade she passes to him and shrugs, wincing up at her as he tries, "I forgot?" 

Regina can't help smirking and rolling her eyes. It's a valiant attempt on his part, she has to give him credit for that. "Well don't do it again," she says sternly. 

"Okay." He looks like he still wishes to conduct further questioning, so she gives him a look to shut down the urge. He frowns and slides off the bar stool. "Can I go play in the back yard?" 

"You may," she nods, and leans down for a kiss before she watches him run off. 

** 

It's a few hours later when she receives contact from Emma, in the form of a text message: 

_just landed in nyc - golds a pain in the ass but still alive for now_

Regina tries to calm the swarm of butterflies that assail her stomach at seeing Emma's name appear on her phone, and instead focuses her energy on judging the absence of proper punctuation and capitalization. 

She thinks Emma may be expecting some form of contact in return, and she never really did figure out how to do this text messaging thing. She frowns at her phone, contemplating asking Henry for help. Instead, she scrapes together enough brain power to manage an 'OK' in return, and hits send without the damn contraption exploding in her hand. 

She can barely blink before Emma's shot a response at her: 

_tell henry i miss him and i will bring him back something really cool_

Regina finagles another 'OK' and hits send once more. Another few seconds tick by and her phone beeps with the presence of a new message: 

_you dont know how to text do you ;)_

Regina plants a hand on her hip, pursing her lips at the phone as she replies aloud, "And you, dear, know nothing of proper sentence structure." Not to mention, Regina has no idea what a semi-colon and parenthesis have to do with Emma's question. This time, she types a simple 'no' and hits send again, setting her phone on the counter. 

It beeps again when she has her lemonade glass halfway to her lips. Sighing, she lowers it and reaches for her phone again, flipping it open: 

_thats adorable - dont worry i can teach you. call ya later_

Again, Regina's heart flutters -- this time at the use of 'adorable' -- and she instantly degrades herself for it. She shuts the phone and sets it aside, forcing herself away from it. 

For awhile, she reads on the bench swing in the back yard while Henry plays. He has a wooden sword and keeps jabbing at her apple tree, yelling about dragons and beasts. She chides him a few times when she sees pieces of bark coming off and he apologizes each time. It's a fairly uneventful first day. 

Until evening comes, that is. 

It's when she and Henry are in the middle of dinner that her phone, previously forgotten on the counter, begins to trill loudly. She finishes chewing and throws her son an apologetic look, who shrugs in response, not minding in the slightest. Then she gets up to grab the phone, spotting Emma's name flashing back at her and her stomach tumbles again. 

She pushes the feeling away and flips the phone open, bringing it to her ear while she watches her son push Brussels sprouts around on his plate. "Emma," she answers, and when Henry perks up at the name she gives him a look and points at his vegetables. 

The sudden expletives that hit her ear pull her swiftly out of her silent argument with her son. _"It's fucking_ Neal! _"_

Regina glaces at Henry, hoping Emma's voice wasn't loud enough to hear, and silently excuses herself to go into the other room. 

"Excuse me?" 

_"Neal is here. Fucking Neal. I don't fucking believe this!"_

Regina draws in a slow breath, not quite knowing what Emma's so whipped up about, and calmly tells her, "Please stop swearing at me and tell me what's going on." 

And she does. She tells her about the plane ride from hell sitting next to Gold, and their search for his son's apartment building. She tells her about the scuffle they heard from the fire escape as someone began to flee and how Gold, believing it was his son, forced her to chase him down. 

_"And then I knocked him to the ground and when I looked up, it was Neal."_

Her stomach clenches. "Henry's father?" 

_"Yes. And if that weren't bad enough, as soon as I dropped Rumplestiltskin's name, he looked like he'd seen a ghost --_ he's his son! _Fucking Neal is Gold's kid - Haybale or whatever the hell his name is--"_

"Baelfire," Regina corrects, unable to help the smirk. 

_"Whatever! He's Rumplestiltskin's son, Regina. Henry's dad is Rumplestiltskin's fucking son."_

Regina sighs, her stomach in knots at the information that's just been dumped in her lap, though she can't resist the comment, "I should really hope, dear, that you're not passing on your colorful vocabulary to our son." 

But Emma seems to ignore it, clearly too distraught to participate in their usual back-and-forth. _"I just can't believe this. I can't even believe it. I never wanted to see him again and here he is, being all... Rumplestiltskin's kid and stuff, and... I confronted him about what he did to me in Tallahassee and he said that August told him not to go after me."_

"August Booth?" 

_"Pinocchio, yeah. So I sat in a jail cell, fucking pregnant, because a puppet told him not to help me out. Can you believe this?"_

She raises her eyebrows and draws in a breath, sighing it out. She leans against the door to her study, which she had closed behind her. She can only hope Henry's not standing outside with his ear against the door. "Well, there have been stranger things, certainly." 

_"You're not helping, Regina."_

The tone of Emma's voice throws her off momentarily; it's sharp and biting and heavily-laden with frustration. She can't help asking a bit harshly, "Well what exactly do you want from me?" 

There's a pause on the other end. And then she can hear Emma sighing. She can practically feel all the intensity and anger fading from the blonde as she finally responds, quietly, _"I don't know."_

Regina swallows, picturing how Emma must look right now -- head dipped, the toe of her boot probably scuffling at a crack or imperfection in the floor or ground, blonde hair falling in her face. 

The soft voice brings her back to herself as Emma tells her, _"I just... I just really needed to talk to you."_

Her heart and stomach perform their acrobatics before her brain jumps in, reminding her that Emma wants nothing from her other than friendship. "Well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm not able to do anything from here to help you feel better." Sighing, she adds wryly, "And I'm more than sorry that Gold is Henry's grandfather." 

_"Shyeah,"_ Emma huffs, and it's an inelegant sound but it gets her sentiments across nonetheless. _"As if this family weren't screwed up enough."_

Regina hums quietly, smiling just a bit. Another silent moment ticks by and she can hear Emma sighing again. 

_"I should probably go. I left Neal and Gold alone so they could talk, I guess I should... make sure they haven't killed each other. But I think we're leaving tomorrow, so I'll see you soon, okay?"_

Regina nods, aware that Emma cannot see the gesture as she tells her, "See you soon." 

The rest of the night passes without further text messages or phone calls, and she sends Henry up to bed at his designated time. After he falls asleep and she's shut his door, she decides to hole up in the den with a glass of wine, needing some time to herself to think. 

She sinks into the couch, sipping at her chardonnay and staring at one very specific corner of the coffee table. The very same one that boasted a chess board and shot glasses 24 hours earlier. She swallows hard, savoring the aftertaste of the wine as she ponders the intense rollercoaster she's been on in the last 24 hours. 

She throws a glance toward her record player and the small pile of records beside it -- Emma's purchases that she didn't bother to collect when she rushed out after their kiss. Rising slowly, she takes her wine glass with her over to examine the records. She stares at the cover of the Cibo Matto album and shivers, an image hitting her of her head rolling languidly to the side and her throat instantly devoured by Emma's lips. 

She quickly shifts that one to the bottom of the pile and looks at the next - a grayscale image of a young woman looking down. From the label, the young woman is Rachael Yamagata, and Regina slowly slips the vinyl record from inside the cover. 

Opening the plastic lid of her record player, she sets it on the spindle and grabs the needle, letting it fall on the first track. She then takes another sip of wine, adjusts the volume so as not to wake Henry, and returns to her spot on the couch. As she thinks back on her conversation with Emma, she finishes her glass and refills it. 

Part of her is having a hard time coming to terms with what she's learned. Henry's biological father is Rumplestiltskin's son. Rumplestiltskin, her former mentor and one of the people she despises most, is the grandfather of her son. It seemed quite surreal and yet, strangely... it made sense in an unfunny ironic way. 

"The product of True Love creating life with the progeny of the Dark One," she sighs aloud, shaking her head. "Of course." 

Then the obvious question hits her -- did Gold know? He certainly knew Emma would be the savior when he wrote her into the curse. Did he know that she would grow up to create life with his son? 

Then another thought settles in -- was that why he chose Henry? 

After deciding to become a mother, she made the mistake of striking a deal with him so that he would procure for her a child. _Did he know then whose child it was?_

She can only imagine the things that are running through Emma's head right now. The mental and emotional turmoil she must be in. Part of her wishes the blonde were beside her right now. She could take her hand, or give a comforting sweep through those long golden strands to reassure her that she'll be okay -- they're in it together and _they'll_ be okay. 

As if in answer, a new track begins on the record, starting out softly. She takes another sip of wine, her gaze swiftly turning to the record player as the singer almost begins to mock her. 

_Gone, she's gone - how do you feel about it?_

Frowning, Regina rises to her feet once more with all the inherent grace of a true queen; the wine glass is still lightly balanced between her fingers as she makes her way to the record player. 

_That's what I thought, you're real torn up about it_

She takes a hold of the album cover and turns it over, checking to see where the needle is resting on the album before she finds the corresponding track: "Worn Me Down." 

"The irony," she murmurs, taking another sip of wine. 

She returns to the couch and absently looks at her phone, undisturbed since Emma's call earlier. For a moment she considers calling her, just to get an update as to what's going on with Gold and his son, if anything. 

She gets as far as picking up the phone and flipping it open, her thumb hovering over the buttons. She really would like to just hear her voice, stupid as it seems. But then she's reminded of what that stupidity has gotten her. 

Nothing more than a kiss, a mostly-sleepless night, and the inability to stop thinking about the one person that's meant anything to her in years. 

Closing her eyes, Regina swallows hard and slaps the phone shut again, setting it on the cushion beside her. Really, this is just ridiculous. Is this what she's turned into? A lovelorn fool who has nothing better to do than sit around and pine over someone who thinks of her as nothing more than a friend? She should be better than that. 

_But you can't stop thinking about her_

No... she _is_ better than that. She's not about to spend her life waiting for the aloof spawn of the Two Idiots to gather enough brain cells to get a clue. She's Regina Mills. She's a mother. She's a mayor. She's the _queen_. So she rises again, draining the rest of what's in her glass, and her steps are resolute and determined until she's staring down at the record player. 

_But you can't stop thinking about her_

She's made a decision. She's not going to wait for Emma. She'll force her to catch up. Come hell or high water, when Emma returns, she's going to know how she feels. 

_But you can't stop thinking about her_

And with that, she takes one last look at the spinning record with its tortuous lyrics, and a simple wave of her hand splinters it in two.

 

 

**TBC**


	15. Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't take long after her arrival in Storybrooke for Henry and Neal to cross paths. It actually doesn't take much more than an hour after she's picked him up. And the outcome goes exactly as expected -- Henry hates her, and leaves with Neal to get dinner at Granny's.

*****

Emma heaves as disgusted a sigh as she can manage as she hoists her bag onto the conveyor belt, hoping the guy behind her gets the picture.

"Look, I'm not exactly thrilled about this either," Neal hisses from behind her, removing his shoes and tossing them in a gray plastic bin. "But what was I supposed to do?"

"Oh, I don't know..." she sighs, trying to keep her voice lowered. She knows that Gold is several feet ahead of them -- his cane got him through the security line faster -- but she still doesn't want him overhearing. "How about telling him to go to hell and then running off like the coward you are?"

"Oh come on, Emma. You and I both know that wouldn't have worked. As soon as I saw him I knew I was cornered. Plus... he's my dad."

She huffs, and looks impatiently at her phone as it slides through the x-ray machine. She desperately wants to call Regina and let another string of curses fly. Regina's not fond of it, but Emma thinks she knows it helps her to be less rage-y.

And she hates to admit it, but she kinda gets where Neal's coming from on the "he's my dad" aspect. As angry as she was with her parents for abandoning her, once she found them and realized the situation, she was loathe to hold it against them.

Neal's situation is much different, but that innate tie between parent and child is still there. No matter how fucked up the reality of the relationship is. And _her_ parents didn't even choose magic and power over her.

They make it through security and join up with Gold again, she and Neal throwing silent glares at each other all the way to the gate. Then once they've settled in and are waiting to board, she grabs her phone and excuses herself.

Regina is first on her speed dial, and it's calling her before she even realizes. She hears her pick up and she sighs inwardly, already feeling a little better. "Hey."

_"Hi. Is everything alright?"_

"Not really. It's kinda the worst ever."

 _"Well... tell me what's going on."_ After a beat, Regina adds, _"Preferably without the use of obscenities, or hyperbole."_

Emma rolls her eyes, but smirks. "Wow -- demands, from you? That's strange."

_"I assume the reunion went well enough that there were no dead bodies?"_

She frowns briefly -- Regina sounds all-business. Did they have a fight when she wasn't in town? She figured that might happen eventually. "All parties are still alive."

Hearing Regina's smirk through the phone sets her at ease, just a little. _"Pity."_

She laughs. "Right? But we're at the airport on our way home. Um..." She turns over her shoulder, looking across the terminal to where Neal and Gold are seated in the hard plastic chairs.

Neal is pretending to leaf through a magazine and looks up at her every few seconds. Gold is sitting with his cane between his legs, both hands folded on it as he looks disdainfully at the other people in the terminal.

"I have something I need to tell you," she says, dipping her head. "Something that you're probably not gonna wanna hear."

There's a pause, and she wonders if the call has dropped until she hears Regina respond with caution. _"Alright..."_

"Apparently, part of this little 'deal' that Gold and I struck was that I convince Neal to come back with us."

 _"What?"_ It's swift and clipped, and she can tell Regina is _not_ pleased.

"Yeah. Trust me, I had no idea. Otherwise I would've said no."

"Emma, it's Gold. If you owe him a favor, you cannot say no."

"Yeah, I'm finding that out," she huffs, shifting her weight from one leg to the other and folding her non-phone arm across her stomach.

_"So... Henry will meet his father."_

Emma's stomach drops, and her head lifts, eyes suddenly wide. Oh... _shit_. "I... kinda hadn't thought of that."

She feels the panic and mania settling in before she can stop it. Against Regina's wishes, the curse words come out. "Oh shit. No. No, Henry cannot meet him." Oh, this is bad. This is really, really bad.

_"Not that I'm eager for them to meet, but what, may I ask, is the problem with this?"_

Emma closes her eyes, a bit of bile rising in her throat. "I, um... I may have told Henry that his real dad is dead."

There's silence on the other end of the line. Emma pulls the phone away from her ear to check the connection and sees it still ticking away the call duration. "Regina?"

 _"I'm here."_ A little bit more silence, then... _"You lied to him?"_

That gets her. She throws up a hand and counters snottily, "Oh and like you're the model of absolute truth!"

 _"Emma..."_ There's a silent threat there of an impending hang-up.

She immediately backpedals. "Sorry. I didn't mean that, I just... _shit_ , Regina, what am I gonna do? I told Henry that his dad was a hero! That he was a firefighter who died saving people from a burning house. I didn't want him to know the truth! He already knows that I gave birth to him in jail - I didn't want to have to tell him his dad's a thief who let me take the fall for a bunch of stolen watches and he's been in hiding for years and years! I mean, how do you even bring that up with an 11-year-old?" She's shaking her head, heart pounding, and crap she really wishes the brunette could just materialize next to her right now and make Neal disappear.

If she wanted to magic Gold away too, that would just be a bonus.

She can't help the desperation in her tone as she begs, "Regina, _help me_. I need you."

_"I'm sorry, Emma. I'm afraid I don't have any ideas, except... to tell Henry the truth."_

She glances up when she can hear their flight called on the overhead speaker system. She knows she has to go -- she and Gold are in first class. Turning her attention back to the phone, she grumbles, "I thought you might say that. I hate you."

Regina's chuckle on the other end is surprisingly warm, and she returns without missing a beat, _"No you don't."_

"Yeah, you're right, I don't." Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she sees Gold rising to his feet and staring at her expectantly. "Look, I should go. I'll think about what you said."

_"Please do. I know I'm not the epitome of honesty, but I think Henry deserves to know the truth."_

She's right. Emma both hates and appreciates that. "I know. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

Regina affirms, _"Soon,"_ and then she's gone, leaving Emma staring at the call time on her screen.

"Miss Swan, if you'll please get your things -- we are expected to board," Gold beseeches her impatiently.

Heaving a sigh, Emma shuts her phone off and then slips it in her pocket, returning to the chairs and grabbing her bag. She slings it over her shoulder, looking to Neal and arching a brow. "No first class seat for you?"

"With my mountain of wealth? No, I'm in coach."

"And what, Daddy Warbucks wouldn't spring for an upgrade?"

He gives her a look. "He offered. I refused."

Emma shrugs, washing her hands of that complicated relationship for now, and tells him she'll see him when they land. She then follows Gold onto the plane, thinking about her call with Regina.

She _was_ right. Henry deserved to know where he came from. She just knows she's going to pay dearly when he finds out the truth.

 

*****

It doesn't take long after her arrival in Storybrooke for Henry and Neal to cross paths. It actually doesn't take much more than an hour after she's picked him up. And the outcome goes exactly as expected -- Henry hates her, and leaves with Neal to get dinner at Granny's.

So here she is, standing on Regina's front steps for the second time in the last two hours, reaching up to knock. She can hear music inside and considers ringing the bell. But before long, there's Regina, looking surprised to see her.

And Emma must look downright crazy, because Regina's eyes seem to widen a bit as she asks, "Is... everything okay?"

"No. No, it's definitely not." She heads inside while Regina just watches her.

The Sundays album she bought is playing from somewhere in the house and she follows the sound to the den. Strange to think that the last time she was in this room, they were--

No, actually, it might be best if she _doesn't_ think about that right now.

"You're listening to one of my albums?" she asks, unable to keep the note of incredulity from her voice.

Regina nods, giving her a small smile. "I like it."

She can't help looking impressed. "Wow."

She watches as Regina goes to sit on the sofa, and, even though she has reservations about being in this room again, she sits beside her.

"Now..." Regina slips her shoes off and tucks her legs up beside her, angling to face Emma. She lowers her head just a bit and gives her a warm smile. "Tell me what happened."

So she does. She starts at the very beginning, touching down in Manhattan. She tells her about catching Neal, and the tense catch-up session they engaged in. She tells her about his reunion with Gold and him cashing in more than what she owed in terms of favors, and the teeth-pulling that was convincing Neal to travel back with them.

Then she tells her what happened when Neal and Gold stopped by the apartment looking for her – how Henry had come out and called her ‘Mom’ right in front of Neal. 

“I knew what was happening and I couldn’t even stop it,” she sighs, covering her eyes with one hand. Her hair is falling forward and she uses that same hand to sweep it back, turning to look at Regina again. 

Regina’s watching her hair fall back into place with the softest look. It’s confusing, but Emma keeps going. “So Neal introduces himself and asks Henry how old he is. As soon as he tells him, that’s when everything comes out. Neal’s pissed I kept it from him, but,” she shakes her head, “I don’t really care about that right now. And Henry’s mad I lied to him.”

Regina nods. Her elbow is braced on the back of the couch, and the backs of her fingers are toying with her lips thoughtfully. “What did he say?”

Smirking, Emma tells her, “He said that I’m just like you.”

She watches as hurt flashes across Regina’s face, just a brief flicker, before she covers it with a short hum. “Lovely that he’s… using me as a means of insulting others.”

“I don’t think he means it.”

She nods. “I know.” Then, she nudges her. “And I hope you realize that he won’t stay mad at you forever.”

“Yeah, but… how long is it gonna take for him to get over it?”

“It’s hard to say. But… he will.”

Emma groans, scrunching up her face and leaning on her friend. Her head lands just beneath Regina’s chin, on her collarbone. The chuckle she releases vibrates against Emma’s head and she closes her eyes, whining, “Being a parent sucks.”

She feels Regina’s hand landing in her hair, followed by her mouth. Both of them just rest there gently, and she can feel the smile on Regina’s face. “Yes, it sometimes does. It’s the hardest job you’ll ever have, and it’s the one job you can never quit.”

Emma sighs, closing her eyes again. She can hear Regina’s heartbeat under her right ear and it somehow helps to soothe her frazzled nerves. After a moment in which Regina just rests her chin on top of her head and rubs her upper arm, Emma exhales, “Why didn’t I just tell him the truth to begin with?”

There’s a pause – silence lingers between them. She feels Regina swallow, and then she speaks – slowly, as if working out some thought process. “Sometimes… honesty is a tricky concept. Particularly when it has the potential to hurt someone.” A bit more quietly, she adds, “Or hurt ourselves.”

Emma frowns. “Yeah, I guess.”

Another silent moment stretches on. Her head moves up and down when Regina takes a breath, and just as she lifts her head she can swear she can hear the brunette’s heartbeat speeding up. “Regina?” she asks, a bit cautiously.

When she’s sitting up fully, she looks at her friend to find her fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Her legs are still tucked up beside her, silk crimson blouse a little wrinkled from where Emma leaned on her. She’s frowning down at her fingernails like she’s contemplating their existence, before she says, “Emma, there’s something I need to tell you.”

A million thoughts and possibilities hit her all at once. Regina’s dying. Nah, she looks pretty healthy. Oh God, Henry’s dying. No, he’s fine too, he just hates her. Her parents are dying? She looks up at Regina, considering it…

 _Nah, she’d be ecstatic.._ So she asks, “What is it?”

From the look on Regina’s face, whatever it is, is big. And she looks nervous, her eyes flitting everywhere on Emma’s face. But really, what could Regina possibly have to tell her that would throw her off more than seeing Neal again?

That’s right about the time that Regina leans in and kisses her.

 

**TBC**


	16. Raw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.

*****

She hadn't planned on kissing Emma when she first decided to tell her. But as they sat there together, Emma’s head resting on her, she suddenly knew that words wouldn't do.

Plus, it wasn't as though subtlety was one of her strong suits.

And for a moment, Emma yields to her. Her lips are soft and begin to part. But reality catches up with the blonde remarkably quickly; Regina feels the tension snap through her in an instant and then Emma’s hands are on her shoulders, pushing her away.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Her eyes are wide, fingertips digging in to her shoulders. “What the hell just happened?”

Regina feels a bit of patience slide away, because – really? She was going to play _that_ game? “I kissed you,” she tells her, matter-of-factly.

“Okay… why?”

“I would think that’s obvious.” She tries not to sound irritated, but it just comes out.

“Uhh, not to me.”

Regina sighs, dropping her head. She really _is_ the product of the Two Idiots; and part of her pities the blonde, because she ended up with a double-dose of stupidity. “Then apparently I need to spell things out for you.” She reaches for her hand and Emma jumps at the contact, though she doesn’t pull away.

She takes that as a good sign. “Emma, I've… developed feelings for you. Romantic feelings.”

If possible, Emma’s eyes get even wider, and Regina’s left wondering if she should reconsider this plan of action. She knew she was dense, but she had been unaware of the severity until now.

“You have?”

She nods. She’s already stepped in with both feet – best to go all the way in. “I have no idea when it started or what started it, but I find that I’m,” she chuckles nervously, feeling a bit silly that she’s even having this conversation, “I’m somewhat… crazy about you.” She looks up, meeting the blonde’s wide eyes, gripping her hand tightly for fear that it will be yanked away. “I-I can’t stop thinking about you, I have such a wonderful time when we’re together, and I've never been able to open up to or trust anyone like I can with you.”

“I know,” Emma exhales a smile, and Regina feels a twinge of hope searing her gut as she squeezes her hand. “I have a great time with you, too. And honestly, you’re the best friend I've ever had.”

Regina’s smile is beatific at this point; she’s overwhelmed with joy and just has to lean in again…

“But…” Emma’s voice stops her when their lips are a hair’s breadth from touching.

The joy within her is promptly usurped by pangs of sorrow. She watches Emma pull back. Her hand is released and it suddenly feels cold. She looks at it, still upturned on the small piece of sofa cushion that separates them. Emma’s hand on her cheek is unexpected and she gasps, meeting her eyes.

The smile she receives is sad… sympathetic, maybe. She’s a fool. “But that’s part of the reason I said I didn't want to experiment with you. I care about you, so much.” The smile turns a bit wry as she adds, “Way more than I ever wanted to.”

Swallowing hard, Regina places her hand on Emma’s wrist, eyes on her lips as she tells her, “Kiss me again and tell me that you feel nothing.”

“No. I’m not gonna lead you on like that.”

Regina pulls back at that, a wounded look on her face. “But it was okay for you to toy with me and suggest a kiss a few nights ago?”

“I had no idea you even felt this way! And anyway - it was a game, Regina!”

She feels compelled to use some of the colorful language Emma herself is so fond of, and shoves her hand off of her face as she calls, “Bullshit.”

Emma looks momentarily shocked that she would dare utter such a word, and gets to her feet. “What?”

Regina rises with her, invading her personal space. “You heard me – bullshit. It wasn't a game, to either one of us. You wanted that kiss,” she dips her voice and her head, giving her a smoky look through her lashes, “and I gave you _everything_ you wanted.”

She can feel the adrenaline and magic starting to course through her – a fire sparked by Emma’s ignorance, and it’s one that she doesn’t mind stoking for a bit.

“It was an impulse – a weird impulse, and I acted on it. I told you it was a mistake.”

She shakes her head and steps even closer. “I’m afraid I’ll have to call ‘bullshit’ again. You and I both know that humans don’t act upon every single impulse that strikes them.” Tilting her head, she adds, “If we did, after that kiss you would have been thrown down on that coffee table and shown a thing or two you wouldn't soon forget.”

She doesn’t miss the way Emma swallows hard at that, her blue-green eyes sparkling in the low light of the den.

“We were _drinking_ , Regina!” she spits back at her, not backing down even though they’re practically nose-to-nose. “Things got out of hand and that’s all.”

Regina keeps advancing, and now she’s so close that Emma has no choice but to either back up or run into her – she chooses the former, but Regina is quick to follow until she has her backed against the wall.

She presses a hand to the wall beside the blonde’s head, leaning against it. “That kiss scared the hell out of you. Not because it happened and it was a mistake, but because _you wanted it_. And you and I both know that things would have gone a lot further if you hadn't panicked and run off.”

The look Emma throws her way now carries with it a warning; a warning that she’s happy to ignore even as Emma clenches her teeth and says, “Back off, Regina.”

If anything, it goads her. She presses her other hand to the wall on the opposite side of Emma’s head, effectively pinning her in place. “No. You know that I’m right. You may not want to admit it, but you know the truth. And,” she leans back just a little, offering her a few moments of breathing room before her next attack, “Let’s not forget what happened both when we kissed, and when we slow-danced.”

Then she invades her space again, widening her eyes just a bit as she gives a gleeful little smile and finishes, “ _Magic_. And do you know what magic _is_ , Emma? Do you have any idea what creates it?” She doesn’t give her a chance to answer as she keeps going, “It’s emotion.” Her eyes dart back and forth between both of Emma’s, making sure she looks good and scared. “Pure, raw, naked emotion. It’s passion, Emma. And we've got it in spades.”

She’s practically leaning against her now; only breath can fit between their bodies. “So don’t you stand there and tell me that there’s nothing going on here – that you feel nothing toward me. If you didn't…” She reaches out and takes Emma’s hand, pinning it to the wall as well as she threads their fingers together.

Emma turns to look and there are tiny sparks and bolts, traveling between and around their palms – alternating purple and blue. With a thumb and forefinger on her chin, Regina forces Emma’s eyes back to hers. “If you didn't, we wouldn't have _this_ ,” and she wiggles her fingers against her hand, feeling small electrical shocks as she does so.

She looks back at Emma and finds she’s being scrutinized, hard. The blonde’s eyes flash fire and Regina’s about to address it when suddenly Emma lunges forward, claiming her lips. She doesn’t have a moment to think or even react before she’s consumed completely by a white-hot kiss. 

She can hear a groan and doesn’t know if it’s her or Emma that released it. All she can feel is fire and magic and whorls of violet and blue. Emma tastes fresh and smells like she’s been rolling around in wildflowers. The magic her lips spread through Regina’s veins is bright and passionate and good… so, _so_ good.

Her hands skim Emma’s waist and grips her hard. This time she’s sure that it’s the blonde who groans, drawing Regina close by grabbing a belt loop on her dress pants and yanking. They fall together and it’s glorious. Emma’s hands are in her hair and Regina’s are on her waist, able to feel skin where her shirt has rucked up.

Then Emma is pushing – pushing off from the wall and Regina lets her lead, hoping they at least end up in the vicinity of the couch. But suddenly their lips are torn apart as Emma keeps shoving, and Regina finds herself on the arm of the couch, dumbfounded as she stares up at her. 

The look on the blonde’s face is angry; she wipes at her lips looking pleased with herself and Regina finally gathers enough sense to realize that it had been a ruse – a means of unpinning herself. 

“Maybe there are emotions between us,” Emma pants, straightening her shirt. “Maybe they’re intense enough to create magic. But for me?” She raises her brows. “They’re not passion and they’re sure as hell not love. And whatever they are, they’re not worth ruining what we've already got.”

Curling her lip, Regina growls, “Then you’re more of a coward than I thought. And you’re a fool, but that’s no surprise.” Tilting her head haughtily, she sneers, “You _are_ a Charming, through and through.”

Emma just huffs and swipes her bottom lip one last time, “Goodbye, Regina,” and turns on her heel to leave.

Regina’s feels like part of her is still coming to her senses, and she stumbles to her feet, chasing after her. It’s that idiotic ‘Never Have I Ever’ game all over again. “Emma, wait.”

Maybe she was too harsh, too rough. Maybe she hadn't placed enough emphasis on the deeper emotion she felt other than the passion. “Wait, please.”

The front door is already open and Emma is straddling the threshold – one foot in and one foot out. She quirks an eyebrow, just slightly, and says, “No, I think we’re done here.” And then the slamming door brings on silence. 

Regina is left all to herself, staring at the door and the chandelier that swings with the momentum of Emma’s departure. She can still feel magic traveling through her veins and she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers until a small flame is hovering millimeters over her palm. The urge to destroy is overwhelming – and all she needs to start it off is in the palm of her hand. 

But instead, she closes her eyes; she resists. When she opens them, the flame has been reduced to a faint glow, and she closes her hand around it, bringing her fist to her lips. She touches them briefly and thinks of the passion that had exploded between the two of them. How could Emma insist that it wasn't part of the equation for her. 

Sighing, Regina drops her arm to her side and trudges up the stairs for a bath. She has no idea where they've left things or what tomorrow will bring, but there’s one thing she knows for certain:

She can no longer be friends with Emma Swan.

 

*****

The next morning arrives, and shortly after breakfast is when there’s a knock at the front door. Her stomach churns, knowing it’s Emma. The resolution she made last night now makes her feel a bit queasy – she feels like she needs more time to think on it before saying anything else rash. 

The knocking grows more persistent and Regina calls out, “Coming!” before checking her appearance in the mirror. When the door swings open, she’s surprised to see Henry standing there looking up at her. “Henry…”

He throws his arms around her like he hasn't seen her in weeks, and she runs a hand through his hair. He looks upset about something, and she doesn’t see a car in sight that resembles the death trap or the cruiser. When she feels her son pulling away, she bends slightly so that their eyes are level. “Sweetheart, how did you get here?”

With a shrug, he tells her, “I walked.”

Regina opens her mouth to question him again when he suddenly asks, “Can I stay with you for awhile? I mean, I know it’s not the weekend, but—“

“Of course you can,” she responds without missing a beat. “You know you’re welcome to stay as long and as often as you want.” But there’s a burning question needing to be answered. “But… what about Emma?”

“I don’t care about Emma anymore,” he grumbles, and practically stomps past her into the house. 

He heads up the stairs and she follows, watching as he flings himself onto his bed. This certainly lines up with what Emma had been talking about last night. 

But maybe it’s best if she doesn’t think about Emma right now, and instead focuses on Henry. So she leans on the door frame and asks, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Henry faces away from her and shakes his head. She nods unseen, expecting as much from him. So she tries a different tack. “Would you like some chocolate milk?” and she thinks that will hook him. It’s very seldom she allows him to drink the sugar-ridden beverage, but his dire mood may just call for it.

Surprisingly, he shakes his head again. So Regina raises her brows and sighs, placing a hand on the knob. “Alright! Well, I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready to come down.” And she’s halfway out the door when she hears him sitting up and turning to face her.

“Why didn't she just tell me who my dad really was? I mean I already knew that she had me in jail, so why couldn't she just be honest?”

She sighs once again, going to sit beside him on his bed. “Henry… there’s something you should know.”

He looks up at her as she wraps an arm around his shoulder. She looks down at him with a remorseful frown on her face, hoping he can see the sincerity in her eyes. 

“What?” he asks, looking so terribly innocent. 

She’s about to shift his hatred off Emma and onto herself. “It’s my fault that Emma didn't tell you the truth.”

“What?” Now he looks confused, leaning back a bit so her arm slips from him. “How?”

Regina takes in a breath through her nose, breathing it out slowly. She’s already given her son enough reasons to hate her – what’s one more nail in the coffin? “Because, I made Sidney print that story about her.”

“How she had me in jail?” he clarifies, and she nods. He looks away. “Oh.”

“I’m so sorry, Henry.” She reaches for his hand, holding on for as long as he’ll let her. “It was when she first got here, and we weren't getting along. I was afraid she was going to take you away from me, and—"

“It’s okay,” he says, sounding surprisingly calm about the whole thing.

Now it’s Regina’s turn to lean back, and she stares at him in disbelief. Why isn't he throwing a fit and telling her he hates her? Why isn't he running back to Emma at this very moment? “It is?”

He nods, giving her a small smile. “I already forgave all those mean things you did last year.” Shrugging, he tells her, “You’re a different person now. You’re a good person.”

She smiles, wrapping her arm around him again. “Thank you.” She presses a kiss to the top of his head before she leans her cheek on it, her hand rubbing up and down his upper arm. After a moment, she says quietly, “Do you know who else is a good person?” She looks down at him and thinks he knows what’s coming. He doesn’t respond, so she says, “Emma. Emma is a good person.”

“Then… why did she lie?”

“Because she was scared,” she tells him, hugging him to her. “She was scared because of what was in the paper. And… I don’t think you’ll fully understand this until you get older, but…” She looks him in the eye, telling him the same thing she told his mother the night before. “Honesty is tricky sometimes. Especially when it has the potential to disappoint or hurt other people.”

“Emma said once that sometimes she lies when she’s scared, too, so… I guess that makes sense.”

Regina nods and drops a kiss to the top of his head again. Then his comment catches up with her – _she lies when she’s scared_.

To Henry, she asks, “Do you feel a little better now?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you ready to make amends with Emma?”

At that, he shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” she says, and smooths her skirt as she rises from his bed and watches him turn on his side again. He’s always been a very introspective little boy, and she knows he’ll need a little time to process what they've discussed. 

So she leaves him alone and heads back downstairs, thinking things over. If Emma lies when she’s scared, then that perhaps meant that her kiss last night – and all the magic and passion behind it – was in fact real; so real, that it frightened her into lying, and denying there was nothing of substance there.

She breathes a sigh and tilts her head, saying aloud to herself, “Well sorry, Emma. It’s time to put on your big-girl pants.”

Not long after she says it, the doorbell rings. And this time the tightening of her stomach tells her exactly who’s on the other side. So she steels herself – checks her appearance in the mirror again – and strides as confidently as she can manage over to the door, pulling it open. And there she stands – sheriff, savior, owner of a pool of denial. 

For a moment, neither one of them say anything – they just assess each other. She watches Emma swallow and take half a step forward, asking, “Are we still speaking?”

“It would seem so,” she replies, allowing just a hint of a smirk.

She watches, for the second time in the last several days, as Emma heaves a sigh of relief, confident that the state of their relationship remains intact. Little does she know…

“I-I just wanted to see if—"

“Henry was here?” she finishes, nodding when Emma does. “He is. He’s upstairs.”

Wincing a little, she surmises, “Still pissed at me, huh?”

Regina smiles. “He’ll get past it. He always does.”

Emma nods, searching her eyes. Regina just watches her, unwilling to let her poker face slide. The blonde takes another step forward. “In that case, um… maybe you and I can talk?”

Regina nods, and closes the door behind herself as she joins Emma on the front stoop. “Certainly. Let’s talk.”

“When I said last night, that we’re done? I’m really sorry. I didn't mean that. I think things just got a little heated…” to herself, she raises her eyebrows and adds, “Again, and…” then she looks up. “And I just needed some space.”

She nods. It’s the same song and dance number she heard days ago. “I know.”

Emma looks up and meets her eyes, brows lifting again. “You do?”

“Yes. And… I know you didn't mean what you said.” She watches as relief floods the blonde’s face for the second time, before she gets ready to wipe it clean off as she adds, “But you had a point.”

Predictably, the expression on Emma’s face shifts from relief to confusion. “About what?”

“The idea of being done. I think…” She nods slowly. “I think perhaps we've reached that point.”

“Whoa, wait.” Emma waves her arms, one hand resting on the stone column – the very same one Whale had Regina pinned against when the blonde swooped in to save her – and she looks at her in disbelief. “Regina, what are you talking about?”

“Well Emma,” she takes a step in and they’re in one another’s space again. Never a foreign concept but she really needs it to hammer the point home. “You said before when this happened the first time that you just needed space. So you ran.” She sees her open her mouth for a rebuttal but doesn’t give her a chance. “Just like last night. You needed some space, and out the door you went once again.”

“Regina—"

Regina shakes her head, searching her eyes as she asks in a hushed tone, “Aren't you tired? Tired of running, of needing some space? Aren't you tired of being afraid to own up to how you feel?” Another attempt is made by the blonde to open her mouth, and again Regina cuts her off. “I am. I’m very tired.”

“So…” Emma frowns at her through her lashes. “What are you saying?”

Regina tilts her head. She reaches out and touches a piece of Emma’s long blonde hair. Moments come to her at once of drunken giggling, of grabbing one another’s hands, of having someone to lean on. Then, she looks up, their eyes meeting. “I’m saying exactly what you said to me last night – I think we’re done here.”

“Regina…” She thinks she can hear the blonde’s voice catching. 

A lump is rising in her own throat, too, but she has to push forward. She can’t go back on her decision. It’s for the best… for both of them. 

Emma pleads with her. “Please, think about what you’re saying.”

“I have,” she tells her, releasing the slice of hair from between her fingertips. “I thought about it all night. And I’m sorry, but… I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

She watches Emma swallow, and she can see moisture gathering in her eyes as she grabs her hand. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” she tells her, squeezing her hand for what may very well be the last time. She looks down and watches her thumb massage Emma’s knuckles. She forces herself to let go, and to take a step back. “But… the way I feel about you?” She swallows, shaking her head. “It’s bigger than that. It’s much bigger. And if you insist you’ll never feel the same, then I need to cut my losses. Because this—" She gestures between them. “Whatever this is? It’s only going to hurt me.”

There’s nothing left to do then but say goodbye. Emma looks like she’s at a complete loss for words, and that she could possibly cry soon. Regina’s torn between wanting to make it better and being glad. She musters the last vestiges of strength she has as she lifts her head to meet the blonde’s watery eyes, telling her, “I’ll drop Henry off tomorrow. He should be feeling better by then.”

Emma merely nods, mouth still slack at what’s just happened. She looks devastated and confused, and probably many more things that can’t yet be enumerated. Swallowing her emotion, Regina lifts her chin and opens her front door, going inside. 

Emma begins to follow, voice pregnant with unshed tears. “Regina, don’t—"

Her voice is quiet, sad as she says, “Goodbye, Emma.” Then she shuts the door and leans against it with her forehead, forcing the tears at bay. 

She presses her hand to the hard surface, completely unaware of the savior doing the same thing on the other side of the door.

 

**TBC**


	17. Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The old expression says that you can’t help who you love. The same is true in reverse, though. Emma can’t help that she just never developed deeper feelings.

*****

It takes all of Emma’s strength to pull herself away from the door, though she only makes it as far as the edge of the front stoop. She sits down hard on the concrete and braces her elbows on her knees, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes. 

The tears come out before she can stop them; is this really happening? Is she really losing the best friend she’s ever had because she doesn’t feel the same?

She understands why Regina did it, but doesn’t _she_ understand that this is something that can’t be helped? The old expression says that you can’t help who you love. The same is true in reverse, though. Emma can’t help that she just never developed deeper feelings. 

She _loves_ Regina, just… not the way Regina wants her to. God, this can’t be happening.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, crying as quietly as she can. But before long she figures she’d better drag her ass off Regina’s front steps, or people are gonna start asking questions. Either that or Regina would come out and find her there and make her leave.

So Emma pulls herself to her feet and walks toward the car, each step heavy. She thinks of the first time she walked away from this house and hoped she’d never have to come back. Now here she is, wishing she didn’t have to leave.

When she passes the gate, she stops and looks back at the house – at the window of the master bedroom. She thinks she sees the curtains swish, and decides to just get in the car and leave before Regina comes down to yell at her. 

She makes it as far as Main Street before she doesn’t feel like driving anymore. She pulls over by the auto shop; the guys there are already working, and a few of them call out a greeting. She gives a perfunctory wave, feeling half-guilty that she looks so unapproachable. 

She passes the tailor and Marco’s clock shop, followed by the pawn shop. She’s almost at the corner when she can hear the door to the pawn shop opening, and then out comes the last person she wants to see right now.

“Emma, hey!”

She swallows and keeps going, forcing her voice to stay even. “Neal,” she returns, as unenthusiastically as she can so he gets the picture.

Soon he’s beside her, and… he’s never really understood subtlety. “How come you’re just wandering around town?”

She keeps staring straight ahead as she lifts a brow, telling him, “I’m the Sheriff, remember? Occasionally I gotta make the rounds.”

“Things are slow-goin’ today, huh?” he chuckles.

Emma looks over at him and watches his smile fade.

“Nevermind, maybe it’s too early for jokes.”

“It definitely is.”

“You wanna grab some lunch?” he asks next, and she can see now where Henry gets his occasional bouts of motor-mouth from.

“Not really,” she sighs, and wonders how much longer she’ll have to ice him before he catches on.

He reaches out then and snags her arm, just inside the elbow. “Hey, come on, Em.”

Anger boils within her suddenly at hearing the shortening of her name, and she spins around, snapping at him, “Don’t call me that! Nobody is allowed to call me that.”

 _Except Regina_ , her brain taunts.

Neal takes a step back, holding up his hands and widening his eyes. “Sorry! Jeez.”

Placing a hand to her forehead, she closes her eyes and huffs. “Look, Neal, I’m not the best company right now.” Then her hand falls to her side and she lifts her eyebrows at him. “Okay? I just wanna be left alone for a little while.”

“You seem a little tense.”

She has to laugh at that, even though the sound carries no joy. He really has no idea. And she has no interest in filling him in. _Yeah, sorry, it’s just that my best friend and I made out a couple times, and apparently she’s in love with me. And I love her, I just don’t think it’s the way she wants me to love her, so she cut me loose and doesn’t wanna see me anymore. So yeah, I’m a little tense._ “Uh, yeah, I guess I am.”

“Alright, well… can I still pick up Henry later? I promised I’d take him to dinner.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, “Fine.” _By all means, start showing him how well your ‘promises’ work out._

He smirks, telling her, “He’s already talking about wanting to stay with me sometime in New York.”

Oh Jesus, she did _not_ need to hear that. Regina’s gonna shit a brick when she finds out. “I’m not so sure about that, Neal.”

“Come on! I’m the kid’s dad!”

Clenching her teeth, she balls a fist next to her. God she’d really love to punch something right now. And she thinks, even if she were alone, that something would still be him. “Neal…”

“Alright, alright. You’re right – wrong time to discuss it. I’ll let you get back to…” He gestures to her, shrugging facially. “Brooding, or whatever it is that you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” she huffs, and listens for his footsteps heading back toward the pawn shop. 

For a few minutes, she feels relieved at being alone again, and several feet later she finds herself heading into Granny’s. She knows Ruby will be there, and that Ruby will want to talk, but hopefully she picks up on subtleties better than her idiot ex.

The bell over the door tinkles as she enters, and she sidles up to the counter. Ruby’s there right away, ready and willing, and Emma says, “Beer, please,” even though it’s one in the afternoon.

She watches Ruby look at the clock, and then shrug. “Okay.”

Then there’s a tall stein sitting in front of her in under ten seconds. She gulps from it gratefully, feeling Ruby’s eyes on her. She wipes off the foam mustache she’s acquired and asks, “What?”

Ruby shrugs again. “Nothing. You just… look like you might need to talk.”

Emma shakes her head. This is what Ruby does. Whether she’s a waitress or otherwise, this is what she does. She gets people to talk. Emma doesn’t want to talk. 

And yet she hears herself asking, “Have you ever screwed things up with a friend so badly that they don’t even want to be your friend anymore?”

Ruby gives that some thought, then nods. “Yeah.”

“What about if what screws it up is something that you can’t help? Like feelings?”

She arches an eyebrow, her dark eyes glittering as she leans on the counter and whispers excitedly, “Does somebody like you?”

“Yeah,” she groans, rubbing between her eyes. “Somebody does.”

“Is it that Neal guy that just got here?”

Emma huffs. “Yeah, but… no.”

Predictably, Ruby’s confused. “I don’t get it.”

“I know. Neal likes me, but… that’s nothing. I screwed up my relationship with someone I actually care about and enjoy being with, because feelings got in the way and I don’t feel the same.”

Ruby narrows her eyes, thinking it over. Then all at once, it seems to hit her who Emma’s talking about. Her eyes get large and round, her mouth drops open, and then it spreads into a huge grin as she leans across the counter and whispers, “Nooo….” Then, she looks around for prying eyes and ears as she looks to Emma again and mouths, ‘ _Regina_ ’?

Emma nods slowly, watching Ruby’s reaction, and if she weren’t in such a foul mood she would find it funny, because Ruby looks like she’s about to explode. She presses her lips together and leans back, one hand pressed into the counter. 

Her eyes are still huge as she says, quietly, “That is _wild_.” Then, almost as an aside, she says, “She’s actually pretty hot. I mean I don’t swing that way, but… I might, if she insisted.”

Emma chooses to ignore that side comment and points at her, hissing, “You cannot breathe a word of this to anyone! _Especially_ Mary Margaret!”

“Oh God no!” Ruby widens her eyes. “She’d die.” Tilting her head, she adds, “And I mean she might _actually_ keel over and die.”

“Seriously?” She finds it hard to believe that her mother won’t hear of this immediately. “You’re not gonna tell her?”

“No!” Ruby presses a hand to her heart. “I love Snow like she’s my sister, and… I know she says she’s okay with you and Regina being friends, but… anything beyond that, I think she’d have an aneurysm.” Then, all at once she seems to settle down, and leans her forearms on the counter again, clasping her hands as she says, “Besides… I’m not just _her_ friend. I like to think I’m yours, too. And this might sound weird, but…” She shrugs, wincing. “I kinda like Regina.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “You do? Other than thinking she’s hot?”

“Yeah!” She smiles. “I mean… she has her past. We all do. She’s done some pretty shitty things, but… I’ve really seen a change in her since you guys became friends. It was like being around you made her want to be a better person.”

“Really.” Emma’s heart sinks, just a little, at hearing that. Shit. And if they were no longer friends, what did that mean for Regina?

Ruby glances around for prying ears and eyes again, then drops her voice. “So she really has a thing for you?”

Emma nods again.

“Wow. Well, I guess that kinda makes some sense. I mean…” She shrugs. “You’ve seen the way she looks at you, right?”

At that, Emma raises her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Hmm. Guess you haven’t.” She shrugs and leans back, excusing herself to talk to another customer.

Emma grabs her arm and doesn’t let her get away that easily. “No you don’t,” she warns. “Come on, you can’t just say that and then walk off.” She, too, has to glance around the diner, spotting a few people looking at the way she had grabbed Ruby. She releases her arm and asks, “How does she look at me?”

Ruby shrugs. “I dunno, like… kinda like you’re the greatest thing in the world. I mean I don’t think I ever saw her real smile until I saw her with you.’

Emma’s heart sinks a little more. “God.”

Ruby pats her hand, giving her a smile. “But if you don’t feel the same, you don’t feel the same! What can you do about it?” 

Then, she moves on to someone further down the counter and leaves Emma mumbling, “Yeah,” after her, lost in her thoughts.

There’s nothing she _can_ do about it. Regina feels one way, and she feels another. And sure, Regina’s pretty great when she’s not being annoyingly sassy or self-righteous. And maybe Ruby has a point about Regina’s looks – she’s pretty gorgeous, all dark hair and dark eyes and a persona that screams sex, but… to admire someone’s looks is one thing. Going from finding them attractive to all-out love? That’s way different. And not something she can just force herself to do. 

She pouts at her beer and groans, laying her head on the counter and regretting the past several days. She regrets that stupid-ass ‘Never Have I Ever’ game she suggested, and she sure as hell regrets forcing a kiss. Especially if that’s what made feelings develop where there otherwise would have been none.

She regrets consenting to helping Gold find his son, because now she has Neal to deal with, and she regrets going to Regina for advice when Henry blew up at her. The past few days have been just so royally screwed up, and she has no idea how to cope with any of it anymore.

Keeping her forehead on the counter, she reaches into her pocket for her wallet and grabs enough bills to cover the beer. Then she drags herself up and off the stool, her legs filled with lead as she forces herself outside. 

Maybe she just needs to go home. She could get David to cover her shift and then just sleep all of this away.

 

*****

When she gets home, David is there doing the dishes. “Emma, there you are!” he greets her, tossing the dishtowel aside. “Your mother just stepped out to look for you.”

“Oh?” She wishes she sounded less ambivalent – David’s gonna figure out what’s up before she even gets a word out.

“Yes, she said she got a text from Henry that he was at Regina’s.”

She nods, telling him, “I know. I already found him.”

“Oh. He’s still upset with you, I take it?”

She nods again, dropping all her dead weight into the chair at the breakfast bar. “Yeah, but… I guess Regina talked to him about things. She thinks he’ll get over it soon.”

“Oh. Good. I hate to see discord in this family after all we’ve been through.”

Emma raises her eyebrows, feeling a little guilty that she always figured David wouldn’t even know that ‘discord’ is a word. “Right.”

Then, he looks at her. He furrows his brows. “Something wrong?”

And Emma’s so tired, she can’t even keep up pretenses anymore as she grumbles, “Everything is,” and lays her head on the island the same way she had at the diner. 

“Everything?” She can feel him bracing his hands on the counter, regarding her. “Care to narrow that down a little?”

“No,” she grumbles against the counter. She knows she’s being more than a little dramatic, but if this kind of a fucked-up situation _doesn’t_ call for a little melodrama, then what does?

She lifts her head and gives him a long look. She can’t tell him. Mary Margaret will hear about it instantly, and she does not want to be responsible for a schoolteacher’s untimely death. 

David tilts his head and gives her a smile. “Come on. I’m here to help.”

Sighing, she shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know that you can. Or,” she shrugs, “If you can, I don’t know how much of this I want getting back to Mary Margaret.”

“Ahh.” He leans back. “Well… Emma, you know that I don’t enjoy keeping things from your mother. But… if you ask me to keep this in confidence, then I will.”

Emma glances down for a moment. She toys with a gouge in the Formica surface and tells him, “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I find the beginning works quite well.”

She can’t. She just can’t bring herself to do it. He looks so open, so willing to hear anything she has to say, and she can’t bring herself to say it. How can she tell this man she just met a year ago (who looks no older than her and is somehow still her father) that her best friend – the former queen that tortured them all – is in love with her and broke off their friendship to save face? And how does she even begin to tell him how much it’s hurting her right now?

Luckily, there’s a knock on the door before she has to say anything. David goes to answer it and Emma keeps her back turned, facing the sink, even though her stomach tumbles when he greets, “Regina.”

“Hey gramps!” she hears Henry call out, and then he’s in the door, marching upstairs to the loft. He doesn’t bother to say hello to her, and Emma wonders how long she’ll get the silent treatment.

“David, I’m sorry to just turn up like this. I had promised Emma I would drop him off, and—“

“Well Emma’s right here – Emma?”

Emma cringes, turning around slowly and giving an awkward little wave. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

Regina looks sad; maybe a little wistful, and Emma just wants to hug her. Just hug her and keep hugging her until all the weirdness goes away. But then, she supposes such an urge is a little weird in and of itself. But… Regina’s her best friend. And she kinda misses her already. Probably more than what’s acceptable, but she tries not to focus on that.

David glances between them, and then asks Regina, “Would you like to come in?”

Regina shakes her head, her voice soft and unusually polite for speaking to the supposed bane of her existence (or one half of the bane of her existence anyway) as she declines, “No, thank you, I won’t be staying. I just came to drop Henry off.”

“Oh.” David looks surprised, and gives Emma a look before turning back to Regina. “Well, thank you. We were a little worried about him this morning.”

“Yes, well.” Regina flashes him a quick, almost-polite smile. “Just a taste of what we’ll all be dealing with when he turns thirteen I’d imagine.” She gives each of them one last glance and says a quiet, “Goodbye,” before turning away.

“Regina!” Emma gets off her stool, feeling desperation in her heart and not knowing why. 

Regina stops and turns to face her, while David still watches all of this transpire. Emma figures they’re being more than a little transparent, and she hopes he can’t put _all_ the pieces together just from seeing them interact. 

She dips her head, asking the brunette, “I’ll see you on Friday?”

Regina swallows. She still looks sad, almost like she’s barely hanging on to her composure. Her reply is cordial – almost too much-so – as she nods and says, “Yes. You can drop Henry off after five.”

“Okay.” Then before Emma can say anything else, Regina’s gone and she’s left staring at the empty hallway, and then the closed front door. 

David snaps her out of it. “That’s what’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Huh?”

“When you said ‘everything’ is wrong.” He nods toward the door. “That’s ‘everything,’ isn’t it?”

And all Emma can feel is the profound weight in her chest, and the thudding of her heart while her head taunts her, telling her that he has no idea how true those words are. 

But they can’t be. She’s not ‘everything.’ She’s her best friend, and the one person she can go to when she’s confused or having a crappy day. Except, not anymore. She’s cut off. And she can’t be ‘everything’ because she’s got problems with Neal, too. He won’t go away and she can’t figure out how to get him off her back about going out for lunch or for drinks. 

But the main reason she can’t figure out how to get him off her back is because this whole insane Regina thing is using up all her brainpower, and… oh, shit maybe that is ‘everything’ that’s wrong. “What do you mean?”

David’s still watching her, even as she sits down hard on the steps leading up to the loft. He folds his arms and clarifies, “Regina. Regina is ‘everything.’”

She swallows hard, feeling everything close in around her. “Yeah, she kinda is.”

 

**TBC**


	18. Composure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has an occasional visit from her son, but even those are getting rarer since his father’s been in town. He’s still over every Friday, but it’s only for the night rather than the weekend. And when he arrives on her doorstep, she catches just a hint of the yellow death-trap that dropped him off before it rounds the corner out of sight. She’s not sure what hurts more in those instances – the idea that Emma’s just abiding by her severed ties without question, or the idea that maybe Emma doesn’t want to see her either.

*****

An entire week has passed and she’s beginning to adjust to being completely alone once again. The phone seldom rings; and if it does, it’s Henry checking in. She doesn’t dare go anyplace outside of work and home, for fear she’ll run into Emma and they’ll repeat the awkwardness they exhibited at the loft. 

She can only wonder if David mustered enough perception to figure out their friendship was on the fritz – and if he did, did he care at all? Dumb as he was, he always seemed a bit more supportive of that friendship than the princess. Not that it mattered anymore. Snow had her daughter back full-time now, and she probably couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

Not to mention, the father of their grandchild is in town. Granted it’s the son of Rumplestiltskin, but still – they must be thrilled at the prospect of the reunion of another nuclear family – with Regina on the outskirts, as usual. 

So she’s had to find things to do to fill her time. The first couple of days, she listened to records and contemplated visiting the Fox & Hound again to buy more. The next few was when the weather began to warm up and she resumed working in her garden. Now it’s a week later and she’s beginning to run out of things to do. And she’s lonely. 

She has missed Emma terribly. She knows she did the right thing in letting her go – particularly if she was going to continue to swim in denial – but she’s not sure if it’s really saving her any pain in the long run. She thinks either way, pain is involved. She knows it would hurt like hell to be around her and have these unrequited feelings, but it almost hurts more to be without her completely.

When she was with her, it was agony to sit near her, be able to touch her and be touched, and know that nothing would come of it. But she still had _her_. She still had someone to talk to, to sit with, and to share a glass of wine and an album with. She had a companion. And now what does she have?

An empty house and a hollow heart. She has an occasional visit from her son, but even those are getting rarer since his father’s been in town. He’s still over every Friday, but it’s only for the night rather than the weekend. And when he arrives on her doorstep, she catches just a hint of the yellow death-trap that dropped him off before it rounds the corner out of sight. 

She’s not sure what hurts more in those instances – the idea that Emma’s just abiding by her severed ties without question, or the idea that maybe Emma doesn’t want to see her either.

Henry knows what’s going on – in a sense, anyway. Always the perceptive one – he picked up on it after the first few days. “She misses you too,” he told her once, when he found her just staring out the window. And that was all he said on the matter. 

And now, on the ninth day of her self-induced confinement, Regina decides she’s had enough of being cooped up. If she runs into Emma, then so be it. Perhaps it will be unpleasant, but it would still be nice to see her. And today is the perfect opportunity for her to get out for awhile – Henry will be picked up soon, and it’s a Saturday night. Perhaps she’ll even visit the Rabbit Hole and have a drink or two. 

The doorbell rings and she throws a glance toward the stairs, calling for her son. “Henry! Ready to go?”

“Just a sec!” he yells, and Regina resigns herself to answering the door. She’s gotten so used to him just bolting out that she hasn’t had to worry about letting anyone in.

So she steels herself and gets ready for the head of blonde sure to greet her on the other side. Instead, it’s a man. And a scruffy-looking one at that. Like a stray dog, in human form. 

He points at her and raises his eyebrows. “You Regina?” he asks.

One brow arches sharply as she regards him, and she puts on her best mayoral tone. “Yes. And you are?”

“Oh! Uh, sorry.” He clumsily sticks out a hand. “Neal. Neal Cassady.”

Regina just looks at his hand, then back up, thinking, _So this is him._

An awkward silence settles around them, and Neal chuckles uneasily, withdrawing the unshaken hand. “Germaphobe, huh?”

She thinks that he’s attempting a joke. “I beg your pardon?”

He clears his throat, “Nevermind,” and averts his eyes a moment.

Outwardly, she gives a little smirk and says, “The infamous _Baelfire_ \- the prodigal son himself.”

He glares at her. “The name’s Neal.”

She just shrugs, not caring in the slightest.

Already she can’t stand him, and wonders how Emma could have possibly been willing to take off her clothes for this man. “So you’re Henry’s father,” she says, her voice smooth and even, if a little deep.

“Yeah. Crazy, huh?” He smiles, but it’s a forced expression – and more than a bit strained.

She hopes it’s because she’s making him uncomfortable. The smile she gives him in return is catlike, and overly polite as she answers, “Indeed.”

He shifts again, and she’s rather enjoying how nervous he seems. Perhaps she hasn’t gone soft after all, if she can still make people squirm. 

“You’re, uh…” he points to her. “You’re Henry’s foster mom?”

“Adoptive,” she corrects archly. “I adopted him, he’s my son.”

“Right.” 

If she were more vindictive, he’d have been turned into a toad by now. She’s not completely sold on refraining from doing so just yet. But after another pitiful moment of him shifting on his feet and looking nervous, she forces herself to ease up as she tells him, “Henry will just be a moment.”

“Oh.” He seems visibly relieved that their interaction is coming to an end. “Okay, great.”

Henry comes bounding down the stairs, yelling out, “Dad!” and launching himself at the man.

It sears her heart, but she swallows the feeling and forces herself to regain her composure. “Henry…”

“Oh, right!” Pulling himself away, he throws himself at her midsection instead. “Bye, Mom.”

She wraps her arms around him and runs a hand through his hair, pointedly avoiding looking at Neal. “Goodbye, sweetheart. When will I see you again?”

“How about lunch tomorrow?” Neal suggests, causing her to look up. When she does, he shrugs. “I mean… y’know, you kinda don’t seem to see him a lot.”

“Yes, well.” She flashes an unfriendly smile. “Seems he’s been a little busy with out-of-town guests.”

At least he has the decency to look guilty as he says, “Right. Well, I’d like for you to see him more. I know Emma would too.”

Her heart flutters at the name and she damns herself.

“Plus,” he continues, shrugging, “I was gonna take Emma out tonight. And if things go well, y’know…”

The implication is left dangling and Regina feels her cheeks burning. She wants to send him up in flames.

“Maybe we’ll want a break from the little guy tomorrow.”

She clenches her teeth a moment and thinks of all the spells she could conjure right now to resolve this issue. “Of course.”

Henry just smiles between the two of them, either too young to understand the silent implication or happily ignoring it as he exclaims, “Cool!”

Neal must sense then that he needs to vacate her property, because he claps Henry on the back. “Alright slugger, let’s hit the road.” Waving to Regina, he tells her, “We should do this again sometime,” and she has no idea if he’s being facetious or if he’s actually that stupid.

Either way, he’s a jackass and she hates him. She smiles through the vitriol rising inside. “Nice to meet you, Neal.” 

It’s not genuine and he can tell. “Yeah, you too, Regina. Been a real treat.”

Then she watches them walk down the street together, and she waits until they’re out of earshot before she slams the door.

 

*****

She goes to Granny’s diner an hour later just to get out of the house. She’s still boiling with hate over her encounter with Gold’s idiot son and she needs to take out her frustration on something greasy and terrible for her. 

She may be a queen, but she still enjoys a hamburger every now and then. 

“Hey, Regina!” Ruby greets her as she enters, and it seems enough time has passed that she no longer receives death glares when she enters a Storybrooke establishment. Though aside from Ruby, she’s far from receiving a warm welcome.

She smiles, “Ruby,” and slides onto a barstool. She folds her hands on the counter and looks around at the other patrons, who have all gone back to their respective meals and conversations, before she feels a presence in front of her.

“Coffee?” Ruby asks.

She nods, adding, “And the biggest burger you’ve got.”

Ruby winks and points to her with a stubby little red pencil, telling her, “You got it,” before flouncing off to get her coffee.

In seconds, the bell above the door jingles, and in walks Emma. Regina’s stomach churns and her heart flutters all at once, and her encounter with Neal comes flooding back to her. Emma hasn’t spotted her, but as she walks past, Regina wastes no time reaching out to grab her by the upper arm, forcefully. 

“Ow, hey!”

“Do you have a moment?” she asks, and all but flings the blonde onto the barstool beside hers. 

Emma rubs her arm, complaining, “Jesus, Regina! Tense much?”

They’ve already gathered the attention of a few neighboring tables, but Regina pays them no mind as she leans in and hisses, “Do not _ever_ send that derelict to pick up _my_ son, _ever again_. Do you understand me?”

“He’s my son too,” Emma throws back at her, looking wounded. She still rubs her arm as she shrugs. “And I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get away from work! Some kids vandalized the water tower – David and I had to go take a look at it.”

“Then you could have picked up Henry when you were finished.” Her voice is still a low hiss and she’s over-enunciating every word as one is prone to do when they’re boiling with anger, but it doesn’t seem to faze Emma in the slightest.

“Regina, I don’t get what the big deal is. I couldn’t come over then to get him, so I sent Neal.” Shrugging again, she asks almost patronizingly, “Would you rather I send Mary Margaret next time?”

“Yes!”

At that, Emma’s eyes go wide. “Seriously?”

“Emma?” Ruby stops back with Regina’s coffee, setting it down by the saucer.

“Hey, Ruby,” Emma sighs. “Just here to grab that to-go order.”

The waitress nods. “Two Reubens – they’re all set to go!”

Regina glares at the blonde. “And I suppose the other one is for Neal?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “ _No_ , actually the other one is for David. We’re up to our eyeballs in paperwork thanks to those dumb kids, so we’re working through lunch.”

“Yes, well, best get everything done before your big _date_ tonight,” she seethes. And she knows she sounds jealous and catty, but she can’t help it. Nor does she want to. Emma’s back to being the thorn in her side and needs to know it.

“My what?” At that, the savior looks genuinely confused.

Regina throws her a sideways glance before looking down at her cup of coffee, imagining for a split-second how gratifying it would be to throw it in Emma’s face. “Neal asked me to take Henry to lunch tomorrow, just in case your date goes well tonight and you two want some time alone.”

The blonde’s eyes grow about as wide as Regina’s cup. “He said _what_?!”

Several heads whip around to look at them, and Regina smiles to herself, hoping Emma is good and embarrassed. But she knows better. She knew it shortly after they met – the blonde has no shame.

It’s one of the things she’s always enjoyed about her.

She watches, then, as Emma grows angry. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Regina raises her eyebrows. “Not that I would mind you doing so, but why?”

“Because we’re not going on a date! Or at least,” she makes a face, “I didn’t think we were.”

She purses her lips, taking a sip of coffee. “Sounds like he thinks otherwise, dear.”

“I swear to you it’s not a date.”

The wording piques her interest, and Regina can’t help but look up, brows furrowed as she asks her quietly, “Why would you need to swear to me, Miss Swan?” She pointedly uses formality and hopes it hurts Emma as much as it hurts her. 

Emma gives her a look – a sad little look – and Regina can’t help but think _mission accomplished_. “Because, I… I don’t know.”

Regina shrugs. “I don’t know, either.”

She watches as the most interesting expression takes over Emma’s face. Her eyes dart back and forth like she’s trying to figure something out. And whatever that something is, it’s clearly worrying her. Then she grips the counter top and forces herself up, saying distractedly, “I have to go.”

A crinkling of plastic signals Ruby’s return, and she hands over a bag containing two Styrofoam-encased lunches. “Here ya go!”

“Thanks.” She still looks both distracted and horrified as she looks up with vacant eyes and asks the waitress, “How much?”

Regina’s eyes bounce to Ruby, who’s regarding Emma with curiosity. “Uh… David took care of it.”

“Okay.” She turns then and heads for the door without as much as a goodbye to either of them.

When she’s gone, Ruby makes a face. “That was weird.”

Regina smiles to herself, quipping, “I’d say it’s par for the course with Emma.”

At that, the waitress smirks, and reaches for an overflowing plate handed to her by one of the cooks. She sets it down in front of Regina and says, “Your burger, Your Majesty.”

Regina looks up at her…

“Sorry,” she winces. “I was trying to be funny.”

Surprisingly, all the vitriol within her has seemingly left when Emma swept out the door. So she gives the girl a smile. “I didn’t take offense.”

“Good!” Then, she leans on the counter. “So, I couldn’t help overhearing…”

Regina rolls her eyes. “Of course you couldn’t.”

Ruby shrugs. “Hey, small place – what can ya do?” She looks around momentarily before turning her attention back to Regina. “Couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were bickering about a little bit.”

“Yes, and?”

“And, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to hit the Rabbit Hole with me tonight.”

“What?” She can’t help being taken aback. “Why?”

“You kinda seem like you could use a friend.”

Regina swallows. “Well, I—“

“Come on,” Ruby goads, a wide grin on her face. “We’ll do shots, it’ll be fun.”

 

*****

Against her better judgment, she accepts Ruby’s offer, and by eight-thirty she’s found herself in that dimly-lit dive. She strides up to the bar, her usual spot, and looks at the stool on her left sadly, remembering the times she spent with Emma beside her in that very seat. 

“There you are!”

She looks up at hearing the voice, and Ruby comes toward her. She moves to sit on the stool on her left side and Regina feels herself tensing. Ruby, clearly noticing this, smiles and moves to sit on her right instead. She jerks her chin at the bartender and says, “Two shots of Jack,” and nods when he nods back.

Regina feels compelled to tell her, “You know, I really don’t know that I should do shots.”

She shrugs. “Just one won’t hurt.”

She watches as the girl takes the brimming shot glasses with a gleeful smile, sliding one over to her. “Here you go – knock it back quick and painless, like this!” She then demonstrates by tipping her head back, downing the entirety of the shot glass in one gulp.

It’s daunting, and Regina looks down at her own shot glass. “I don’t… know that I can,” she says with a nervous smile. 

“Come on, Regina! Do it like a Band-Aid.”

She can’t even begin to comprehend that particular metaphor, but does her best to abide. She tips her head back and feels the shot burning its way down her esophagus. She coughs when she tips her head back down, pressing one hand to her chest while the other slams the shot glass down on the bar. “Happy now?” she coughs.

“Yeah!”

Then she can’t help but ask, “Why did you invite me here?”

Ruby shrugs and gives the same cryptic answer she gave at the diner. “You seemed like you could use a friend.” But she toys with her long, curled hair as she says this and, though Regina may not have the same lie-detector skills as Emma, she knows she’s lying. 

“Oh please. Even if I did, why on Earth would you want to spend time with me?” Smirking, she leans in a bit and reminds her, “I’m the Evil Queen, remember?”

Ruby chuckles. “Yeah, and I’m the Big Bad Wolf.”

“Ruby…”

“Okay, okay.” She rolls her eyes. “Emma _may_ have spilled the beans about you guys last week.”

Regina sighs, “Of course she did,” and signals the bartender for a glass of wine. “And I can only assume Mary Margaret was first in the call list?”

Ruby looks briefly offended and tells her, “I didn’t breathe a word of it to Mary Margaret.” Shrugging one shoulder, she adds, “Still haven’t.”

She finds that hard to believe, and it must show on her face, because Ruby assures her, “Really. I haven’t.”

“Why not?” She receives her glass of Merlot from the bartender and nods her gratitude, taking a sip.

“Well, because. I’m Emma’s friend too. And… if you’re not _too_ opposed to it, I could be yours as well. Because trust me, I’ve been where you’ve been.”

“Really.” Skepticism drips from her tone, and she looks at the girl sarcastically through her lashes. “You’ve fallen for your best friend and things didn’t work out.”

Ruby nods. “Yep.”

“Under different circumstances, I presume.”

Another nod and another, “Yep,” followed by, “I accidentally ate him.”

At that, Regina nearly does a spit-take, choking around the sip of wine she’d been taking. “You what?”

“Yeah. I was a wolf at the time, and didn’t know that I could turn into a wolf, and… I ended up kinda…” She cringes. “Eating him.”

Regina has so many questions she needs to ask surrounding that particular confession. But then Ruby’s hand is on her knee as she reiterates, “So trust me – I know what it’s like to lose your best friend _and_ the person you love, all at the same time.”

There are still so many questions. But they likely don’t have time. And anything she’d been _about_ to ask promptly leaves her head when she sees the way Ruby looks up and over her shoulder toward the door, her face falling.

“Oh… shit.” She meets eyes with Regina. “I am so, so sorry. I had no idea.”

She furrows her brows. “No idea about what?” And she turns around.

There’s Emma and that mangy Neal, grabbing a table near the door – against the window. She spins away and faces the bar again. “Wonderful.”

“I didn’t know they’d show up here.”

“Well, tonight is their big _date_.” She can’t help it – any time she says the word, it just slides out sarcastically. 

“I don’t get why…” Ruby trails off, watching the other two for a moment.

Regina waits patiently, hoping the sentence will be finished, and takes another look over her shoulder at Emma and Neal. Her eyes instantly meet Emma’s before the blonde darts them away, opening her menu. Regina’s chest feels heavy and she pushes herself up. 

“I think it’s time for me to head home.”

“Regina…”

“No.” She waves away both the attempt to get her to stay, and the sympathy that Ruby’s voice carries. “Really, I… I appreciate what you did, asking me to spend time with you tonight.” Looking down, she picks at a chipped piece of polish on her thumb nail. “Not many others would be so brave.” Looking up then, she puts on a brave face and tries for a smile, feeling as though she’s failed at it miserably. “Thank you, Ruby. Goodnight.”

“Wait…”

She heads for the door, not daring to look at Emma any more, even though she can hear footsteps following. She’s just outside the door, listening to it click shut when it bursts open again. “Regina.”

She spins, looking at Ruby, who keeps coming toward her. She watches as the brunette throws a glance behind her at the small window in the brick wall. She follows her gaze for a moment and sees a flash of blonde as Emma turns her head away. 

She looks back to Ruby, who takes a step forward. “Listen, I know you probably still don’t believe me, but I do want to be your friend.” Before Regina can protest, she goes on. “And yeah, I know you’ve got a past. So do I. So does everyone else in this goddamn town. But I’ve seen you try.”

Regina’s breath catches inaudibly, and she searches the girl’s large eyes. The look in them is sincere.

“I’ve seen you work hard to be a better person. Whether that’s for Emma or for Henry, I don’t know and I don’t care. What matters is that you’re trying. And maybe some people are never gonna forgive all the things that you’ve done, and I don’t think anybody’s ever going to forget it, but you know what?” She points to herself, jabbing a flame red fingernail against her chest. “I forgive you. I forgive you for what you did, Regina.”

Regina presses her lips together; she can feel them shaking and struggles to hang on to her composure. She blinks away the gray mist in her eyes and nods. “Thank you, Ruby.”

Then the brunette rushes at her – she wraps her in a hug and Regina has no idea what to do she’s so surprised.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Ruby whispers.

Tentatively, she places her hands on the girl’s back. “Sure.”

“I don’t think you’re going to be feeling sad over this Emma thing for long. I think she feels the same way about you.”

Pulling away, Regina stares at her in surprise. The girl simply smiles.

“And you don’t have to believe me. But I see a lot. I see the way she looks at you and talks to you. And last week I saw how lonely she was without you. If she doesn’t know what she feels already, she will soon. And trust me, Regina, she’s gonna come knocking on your door when she does.”

She exhales a smile, patting Ruby’s arms. “I appreciate the confidence, Ruby. I’m not so sure myself, but I appreciate it all the same.”

Ruby widens her eyes and says, “Oh trust me. Emma’s gonna come to her senses.” 

They say goodnight then, and Regina turns to leave. Just before she reaches the street, Ruby calls out to her again.

“Hey Regina!”

She spins, meeting the girl’s wide, wolfish grin. “I might come and get you later and convince you to come back out here with me. I think you could really use another friend.”

Regina smiles. “I appreciate that,” she says, and gives Ruby a wave before she heads off down the street, not seeing the blue-green eyes that had been watching her the entire time.

**

When she gets home, she tries to come to terms with all that has gone on that day and it takes well over an hour. Meeting that Neanderthal of a biological father, then her terse exchange with Emma, followed by Ruby’s invitation. Part of her still can’t quite believe that someone in this town aside from Emma and Henry have forgiven her. 

And though it’s not much, it’s certainly a start. Ruby may not exactly run the town, but she seems to have her fingers in several different circles. And though the inhabitants of Storybrooke may never fully forgive her, perhaps having another person in her corner could help to ease the tension.

She pours herself another glass of wine, this one for free, and heads into the study. She’s just thumbing through the stack of albums there when she hears a loud knock on her front door.

She smirks to herself, rolling her eyes and finishing the sip of wine she’d been about to take, setting the glass on her desk. “Ruby…” she calls, the click of her heels echoing in the foyer. “I appreciate the valiant effort on your part to get me to do more shots, but—“

She swings open the door and all words on her breath stop cold. On her doorstep isn’t the doe-eyed brunette looking to drag her out of her cocoon. “…Emma.”

Instead, it’s a head of blonde and two intense blue-green eyes that meet her on the other side. “We need to talk.”

 

**TBC**


	19. Conclusions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She thinks of her eighteen-year-old self, torn up over how much love sucks and how it brings nothing but pain – and how she never wanted to fall victim to it again. Then she thinks of Regina’s head, hitting her shoulder for the first time. She thinks of the first time she grabbed Regina’s hand and how wonderful it felt to connect with someone again. She thinks of the slow-dance and magical levitation and Gold’s speech about true love and before she knows it, she’s in front of Regina’s house.

*****

In the week since Regina cut her loose, Emma had to do a lot of thinking. She thought about why the idea of not getting to see Regina anymore was bugging her so much. She had to figure out why she couldn’t bear to go to the door with Henry when she dropped him off because she was too nervous to see Regina. 

She had to figure out why the mention of Regina’s name made her feel sad and wonderful all at once. And she finally reached a conclusion:

She has no fucking clue what she feels for Regina.

So she tries several things; she tries burying herself in her work. But for awhile, that’s a pretty tall order, because not much is happening. She tries to spend more time with each of her parents. But since David’s her deputy, they see enough of each other at work. And Mary Margaret is so excited to have her around all the time again that it starts to give her random headaches.

She tries doing more things with Henry. But spending time with Henry means the eventual dropping of Regina’s name, and Emma finds herself in turmoil all over again.

So when Neal keeps bugging her to hang out, to catch up, to get together every now and again, she finds herself saying yes for no other reason than to take her mind off of stuff she wasn’t wanting to think about. And okay, so the entirety of that ‘stuff’ is basically just Regina. Still. Rehashing the ‘good times’ with Neal helps to make Regina fade away, at least for a little bit.

So a week into her isolation from her supposed or maybe former best friend, she’s thanking whatever deity will listen (if there are even any up there) for sending her the two idiot teens that decided to spray paint obscenities onto the Storybrooke water tower. She and David are called to the scene immediately, and while she tries not to laugh at the crude drawings, David keeps talking about how he can’t believe they got up that high.

She checks her watch part-way through and realizes she’s going to be late picking up Henry. Which is kinda okay, because picking up Henry means there’s always a chance she’ll see Regina again – particularly if Henry’s taking his sweet time getting his stuff together. So she fires off a quick text to Neal, telling him where to go. 

She hates to admit it, but it’s kinda handy having Neal around. Granted, she doesn’t like that he’s staying so long. She knows that part of it is because he wants to get to know Henry, but… the other part is Gold. She’s asked him numerous times if his dad’s going to try anything weird and he just shrugs. 

So Gold’s probably gonna blow up the town or something soon.

But other than the occasional annoyances, Neal’s okay to have around. After he’s already texted back and said he was on his way to get Henry, Emma remembers that he’s never met Regina, and she cringes to herself.

_Well… should be interesting at least._

And she continues with her workday. They manage to get the two teens into custody, and David takes them down to the station while she goes to pick up their lunch. Getting graffiti off a tower apparently means a lot of paperwork – she had no idea. Somehow in the time she was gone, David learned more about the bureaucratic side of the job than she ever bothered to. So he’s the one insisting they fill out all the proper forms. 

As soon as she gets to Granny’s, she gets ambushed by Regina, who grabs her arm and just about breaks it as she throws her onto a barstool. 

“Jesus, Regina! Tense much?”

Then Regina’s right in her face, like she always is when she’s really pissed, and it’s actually kinda fun for a few seconds because it reminds Emma of when they were first getting acquainted. But then she hears Regina say two hurtful words in a horrible voice, “ _my son_ ” and she’s brought back to reality by the pang in her heart.

“He’s my son too,” she manages to pout, and seriously – what is Regina’s goddamn deal today? She must have _really_ hated Neal. For some weird reason, that makes her kinda happy. It would’ve been too weird if she had taken to him.

Still. She apologizes for not picking him up and tries to tell Regina that she kinda had no other choice but to send Neal, because really? She would’ve had a shit-fit if she had sent her mother. “Would you rather I send Mary Margaret next time?” she can’t help but patronize her, and she’s way too surprised when Regina barks back at her.

“Yes!”

“Seriously?”

But then Ruby interrupts them and she remembers why she’s there – their lunch, right. Regina gets in another dig about Neal and Emma just shrugs it off, because what is she – jealous? And then she says something surprising.

“Best get everything done before your big _date_ tonight.” And it’s catty and Regina’s definitely jealous, but – wait, what did she just say?

“My what?”

Regina gives her a look. “Neal asked me to take Henry to lunch tomorrow, just in case your date goes well tonight and you two want some time alone.”

She can’t even believe what she’s hearing. And she’s pretty sure her eyes are about to explode out of her skull. “He _what_?!”

That cocky son of a bitch. He asked her to grab a drink with him and she said yes because she had nothing better to do. He didn’t make eyes at her, or give any other indication that he thought anything of it other than they were getting drinks.

She’s going to straight-up murder his ass as soon as she sees him. _Sorry, Gold, that you spent thirty years waiting to find him. He’s going to have to die now._ “I’m gonna kill him,” she growls.

The smile she gets out of Regina is heart-warming in a weird way, and she remembers that Regina loves it when she threatens to kill people. “Not that I would mind you doing so, but why?”

“Because we’re not going on a date! Or at least,” she makes a face, “I didn’t think we were.”

She watches Regina – more specifically, her lips – as they purse around a sip of coffee. “Sounds like he thinks otherwise, dear.”

 _Dear_. She misses getting called ‘dear’ – even though Regina does it sometimes just to be condescending. It’s still a nice sound, and holy shit what is _wrong_ with her? Why is she getting all wistful about a goddamn term of endearment?

Then she hears herself telling Regina, “I swear to you it’s not a date,” and she sounds pretty desperate. 

Seriously – Neal’s gonna get his ass murdered. _So_ hard. They’re gonna have to put her in a straightjacket and lock her up by the time she’s through with him.

“Why would you need to swear to me, Miss Swan?”

Then all at once it’s like she’s been stabbed. By Regina. For so long they worked at getting rid of the formality, of the distance between them. And now, all of a sudden, it’s back. She’s got a point – she shouldn’t need to promise Regina she’s not going on a date with someone – but the name she chose still hurts.

She gives thought to Regina’s question. She’s still waiting for an answer, after all. And suddenly the diner feels very, very small. It feels like the walls are closing in on her. Kinda like the week before when David referred to Regina as ‘everything,’ and Emma belatedly realized that she really _was_ everything – in a basic sense. When she realized that the root of why she was feeling so shitty was because she was on the rocks with Regina.

And if she _did_ go on a date with Neal, so what? It wasn’t like she was _cheating_ on Regina.

Yet… as she looks up at the brunette… that’s _exactly_ what it feels like. It feels like she’s cheating on Regina with Neal. But that’s ridiculous. She doesn’t want to date Neal, and Regina, well… she’s not dating Regina either, is she?

“Because, I… I don’t know,” she stammers, and she feels like an idiot. And even though she knows it’s not true, it feels like every single pair of eyes inside the diner is focused on her, waiting until she works things out.

“I don’t know, either.”

She swore she wasn’t going on a date with Neal, because… because she knows it would make Regina sad. And she doesn’t want to make Regina sad, she wants to make her happy, and oh mother of God she needs to get out of here right now.

“I have to go.”

She just barely registers Ruby handing over hers and David’s lunch in a bag, and she thinks she asks how much she owes before Ruby tells her she’s good and she can leave. 

Oh shit, she wants to make Regina happy.

 

*****

“Emma, there you are,” David greets her, getting up from his desk in the bullpen (or what passes for a bullpen – it’s literally just two desks in front of the jail cells). He outstretches his hand for the bag she’s carrying. “Is that lunch?”

“Huh?” She’s still dumbfounded from the diner and has already kinda forgotten that she brought lunch back with her. Was she holding on to it the entire time she drove back too? She was too lost in her thoughts to remember.

She wants Regina to be happy. She wants to _make_ her happy. She wants her to rest assured that she has no interest in Neal, because—

“Hey, when do we get outta here?”

The lankier of the two kids pulls her from her thoughts. She tries to remember what words sound like when they come out just as David steps in, telling them for her, “Once your parents think you’ve spent enough time in here to think about what you’ve done.”

She thinks she can hear one of them swearing under his breath, but she doesn’t care. She still needs to get out. Every room all of a sudden is way too small. So she turns to her dad. “Hey, do you mind if I take a walk for a bit?”

He furrows his brows at her. “You okay?”

Emma nods emphatically – maybe a little _too_ emphatically – and lies through her teeth at him. “Yeah.”

He gives her a look, and she really hopes she didn’t get her lie-detector skills from him. 

Either way, he nods and says, “Sure, go ahead. I’ll keep an eye on these two,” and nods toward the cells.

So she gets out into the open air and takes a deep breath. The weather is starting to warm up but it’s still cool – the air coming in off the ocean hasn’t quite warmed up enough. It feels good. Her nerves feel like they’re fried, and she really needs this walk. She starts moving. She decides not to pay attention to where her feet are taking her; she’s just gonna go.

She thinks about her encounter with Regina – how she felt an urge so strong to protect her from getting hurt by her relationship with Neal. If it could even be called that. She knows full-well that Neal wants to pick up where they left off, but she has no such interest. She’s never going to forgive him just abandoning her in a jail cell, on the word of a puppet of all things. A fucking _puppet_ – it’s ridiculous.

She thinks of the past week she’s spent, isolated from the one person she’s felt like she could tell anything to. The week has dragged on and has definitely been the slowest passage of time ever. And she thought that maybe Regina was hurting too… until she got called ‘Miss Swan.’

She knows it was intentional, but the question is why? Was Regina just looking to get in a little jab or poke wherever she could? Or did she really not care about her _so_ much that she decided to revert back to their old relationship?

And if she _did_ , well… how could she? Especially after everything they’ve been through. All the long nights spent talking, the times they leaned on one another for support and spilled their deepest secrets… not to mention the times they shared that were beyond explanation! That slow-dance that sent them levitating several feet off the floor, and Regina pinning her to the wall and pressing their hands together, blue and violet lightning bolts traveling all over.

Emma stops in her footsteps, looking up and around at where she is. 

_God dammit._

She’s in front of Gold’s pawn shop. And she’s really going to hate herself for what she’s about to do, as she pushes the door open and goes inside.

There’s Gold, with his Tom Petty haircut and tailored suit, polishing some silver something-or-other at the counter. “Miss Swan,” he greets her in that light accent. “What can I do for you today?”

She licks her lips and swallows hard, stepping right up to the counter. “I want you to tell me about magic.”

Slowly, he looks up at her. He sets down the piece he’d been polishing and braces both hands on the gold edging around the glass counters. “Magic?”

“Yeah.” Oh shit, maybe she really doesn’t want to know… “What creates it? Between two people, I mean.”

At that, the scrawny shopkeeper raises his eyebrows. He opens his mouth like he’s going to ask her why, and she hopes her death glare is enough to dissuade him. 

“What creates magic between two people, you ask,” he murmurs, and now he’s set aside the cloth he was polishing stuff with. This must be serious. “Well, there are many things.”

She’s got no time for his roundabout explanations. “Such as?”

“Well, pure and simple, magic is the product of emotion. Very strong emotion. What that emotion is can vary. It can be anger, passion, sadness… overwhelming joy…”

“So that’s all two people need to make magic together? Emotion?”

“Yes. Binding emotion.”

“Binding.” What the hell is he talking about?

“Two people can create magic when there’s an emotion between them so intense that it binds them together. Again, it can vary.” Shrugging, he tells her, “But the most powerful emotion I’ve seen? Is love.”

Her stomach bounces down past her feet and back up until she’s fairly certain that it’s lodged in her throat. “Love. So like, if… if two people are hugging, or-or… maybe dancing, and they start kinda… floating?”

He raises his brows. “Levitation?”

She nods.

Gold looks like he’s thinking it over for a moment. “Well that’s… that’s quite rare, indeed. So I’d have to say that there’s a more intense emotion at play here.”

“More intense than love?”

“Yes. Specifically, dearie?” He leans against the counter a little bit and drops his voice to that annoying little whisper when he’s about to say something important. “ _True love_.”

Oh. Well… _shit_. “Oh.”

She stares at the glass counter for a second, thinking over the levitation, and the blue and purple lightning bolts, and… she thinks, looking back on it, that maybe when they kissed she saw some sort of weird magical haze?

Gold’s watching her the entire time, probably trying to read her reaction. “I take it by your, ehm, stunned silence that you’ve… experienced this with someone?”

She just nods.

“Ah. Well, true love is nothing to be afraid of, dearie!”

She gives him a look, and she’s just about had her fill of him for the day. For a lifetime, even.

He smiles at her. “Bae will be so pleased.”

At that, Emma exhales a chuckle. It’s dubious, and she kinda wants to shake her head at him in pity, because he has no idea what he’s just dropped in her lap.

He furrows his brows. “What?”

She’s not about to clue him in on who it is. No, that’s for her to deal with. Instead, she turns to leave, telling him simply over her shoulder, “It’s not him,” before she closes the door behind her.

 

*****

She still goes out with Neal that evening; she kinda forgot about the whole ‘murdering his ass’ part, but she still does everything in her power to let him know that this is _not_ a date. 

They meet up just outside the Rabbit Hole, and as she waits for him to reach the front door, she already has trepidation about going inside. Regina’s Mercedes is here. Which means Regina is definitely here.

Which, in turn, means there might be bloodshed if she crosses paths with Neal.

“Hey!” Neal greets her, jogging up to meet her. “Ready?”

 _Not even close_ , she thinks, but plasters on a smile anyway. “Yep! Let’s go.”

So they head inside, and the first thing she does is scan the bar for Regina. And there she is, beside… “Ruby?”

“What?” Neal’s hanging up his jacket.

She snaps out of it. “Oh. Uh, nothing.”

He grabs a booth and Emma follows, throwing another look over at Ruby and Regina. It looks like Regina’s just turning around from looking at her. Sighing, she slides into the booth. Well, this should be fun.

“So, what do you wanna talk about?” Neal asks with a shrug, folding his hands on the tabletop.

Ugh. Yeah, this’ll _really_ be fun. 

**

Not long after they get there, she can hear Regina heading out the door and Ruby follows her. Neal’s talking about Henry – about their visits, but she can’t pay attention. She just watches Regina and Ruby outside the bar.

Whatever they’re talking about, it looks intense. Regina looks kind of sad, and… maybe a little happy? She smiles at Ruby, and then she sees Ruby wrap her arms around Regina. That’s right about when Emma feels like she’s going to be sick. And the prevailing thought in her head seems to be…

_It should be me._

Her stomach drops past her feet. Her mouth feels dry and she hasn’t even had a sip of alcohol yet. She can’t take her eyes off the brunettes outside the bar, seemingly saying goodnight. Then she watches as Regina walks away and Ruby heads back inside. 

She catches eyes with her on her way back to the bar, and she can’t quite decipher the look she gets in return. Ruby raises her eyebrows at her, almost like she’s trying to make a point. 

“Emma, are you listening to me?”

She shakes her head like she’s coming out of a trance. “Huh? Yeah, yeah. Sorry. Go on.”

“I was saying we should all take a trip to New York together sometime.”

“What?” She furrows her brows.

Neal huffs, pushing himself back against the booth with both hands pressed into the table. “So you _weren’t_ listening.”

“What do you mean ‘we should all’ go to New York?”

“Y’know! You, me, and the kid. I bet he’d love to take a trip with his parents.”

She gives him a look. “Then you’d better be prepared for Regina to come with, because she’s his parent too.”

“Sheesh.” He shakes his head. “That chick is a real piece of work.”

Emma can feel her hackles going up. “No she’s not. She’s just… standoffish.”

He rolls his eyes. “She’s a bitch, Emma, plain and simple.”

She slaps her hand down on the table – the sound jars Neal and a couple of the neighboring tables. Lifting her head, she pins Neal with a look.

“Regina’s a lot of things. Okay? But she’s _not_ a bitch. Maybe she doesn’t like the fact that you’ve come strolling into town and are eating up all of her time with our son.”

He smirks. “Did you just call Henry our son?”

“I meant, mine and Regina’s.” 

“Oh. Right, right, because she had such a hand in his creation right?”

At that, she stands up. “You know what? This was so stupid.”

“What?”

“Coming here, with you. Giving you the time of day. You haven’t changed a bit, Neal. And I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re still here.”

“What the hell are you getting so defensive about? So I don’t like Regina, big deal! What are you, like, in love with her?” He chuckles to himself. 

And that’s about all she can take. They haven’t even ordered, and she thinks Ruby is watching her like a hawk, and it’s all she can handle. She has to get out. 

“See you around, Neal. Sorry this ‘date’ didn’t quite work out like you wanted,” she glares, “But I’ve got better things to do.”

And she leaves and gets in the car before he can chase after her. Not that he does – it’s not his style. As she starts the car and throws it in gear, she can see him still sitting at their table, looking out the window, willing to just let her leave. 

She thinks of the nine months she spent in a jail cell, a new life growing inside her as she spent her nights crying over him and wondering why he didn’t fight for her. 

Then she thinks, _Regina’s a fighter_. She thinks of the way she went after her and tried to convince her and how she _pinned her to a fucking wall_ just to fight for what was between them.

She thinks of her eighteen-year-old self, torn up over how much love sucks and how it brings nothing but pain – and how she never wanted to fall victim to it again. Then she thinks of Regina’s head, hitting her shoulder for the first time. She thinks of the first time she grabbed Regina’s hand and how wonderful it felt to connect with someone again. She thinks of the slow-dance and magical levitation and Gold’s speech about true love and before she knows it, she’s in front of Regina’s house. 

Her mouth feels incredibly dry again and she can see sweat on the steering wheel from where her hands gripped it white-knuckled. She drags herself out of the car and thinks about how she’s done feeling isolated and being without the best friend she’s ever had. She quietly opens the front gate and thinks about how everything that’s sucked about her life recently has been because Regina wasn’t there, and how desperately she wants her there, for always.

She’s halfway up the walk when she realizes that Regina might not want to see her. She’s probably still pissed about having to interact with Neal earlier, and it’s doubtful she’s forgiven her for all the stupid shit she’s done. Not only that, but she’s realizing she has no idea how to even _begin_ apologizing for all that stupid shit.

Emma’s reached the door before she can turn back, and raises her hand to knock. She can hear Regina inside, calling out for Ruby, and her heart sinks. Maybe this is a bad idea. 

“I appreciate the valiant effort on your part to get me to do more shots, but—“

Then the front door swings open, and whatever the end of Regina’s sentence is, she’ll never know. Regina just stares at her like… she doesn’t even know what. Like she’s imaginary, maybe. Like she’s the last person Regina ever expected to see on her doorstep. “…Emma.”

She takes a breath – she feels like her chest is heaving, and she thinks maybe she has crazy eyes. But she doesn’t care. “We need to talk.”

Regina blinks at her for a moment. Her mouth opens and closes, and Emma wonders if maybe she’s about to be told to fuck off. But then the door swings open further and Regina steps aside, murmuring, “Come in.”

“Thanks.” She wipes her still-sweating palms on her jeans as she does, able to feel Regina’s eyes on her. 

Regina shuts the door and leans back against it. Emma watches her, part of her wanting to grovel and the other part wanting to pin Regina to that damn door and take out her frustration in a way she thinks they’ll both enjoy.

“What would you like to talk about?”

 _Jesus, you don’t even know_. “I was out with Neal tonight,” she begins.

Immediately, Regina holds up a hand to stop her. “If it’s all the same, I think I’d rather not hear this.”

“I know,” she tells her. “And I’m sorry. But I need you to hear this.”

Regina doesn’t look happy, but lets her continue anyway. 

“I was out with Neal tonight. I’ve been, well… kinda lonely this past week, and he’s been bugging me constantly about going out, so I finally just said yes. It was stupid, and I had no idea he thought it was supposed to be a date. I was just desperate to get out of my head – to stop thinking.”

Regina furrows her brows. “Stop thinking about what?”

And Emma tips her chin at her as she says, “You.”

Regina looks sad and happy all at once again. She just stares, and Emma takes that a sign she’s _not_ about to be thrown out. She takes a step toward her. 

“I’ve had to do a lot of thinking this week. About you, and about me, and this whole thing between us – whatever this is.” Swallowing, she says, “I’ve missed you _so_ much, Regina. So much. I kinda thought it was pathetic for awhile, but… actually, it’s not. It’s helped me to figure out a lot.”

She shakes her head, looking down at her boots. “And I know that I’ve been an idiot. I’ve been wishy-washy, I’ve… kinda jerked you around, and I don’t even know how to begin apologizing for that.”

Regina swallows hard. Her full lips are pressed lightly together and she licks them. “You’re doing a decent job already,” she says, and she sounds a little emotional.

Another good sign. “Thanks.” Clearing her throat, she keeps going. “I guess, even with all my thinking over this last week, I still couldn’t pinpoint exactly how I felt about you.” And she sees Regina start to look down in disappointment, so she takes a step forward and finishes the thought. “Until tonight.”

Regina looks up at her again. 

“Neal was talking to me about you, tonight at the bar. He was griping about how you treated him and he called you a bitch, and I just… flew off the handle. I felt like I _had_ to set him straight, because he got you so wrong and he needed to know it. He didn’t get what I was so upset about, and he said, ‘what are you, like in love with her?’”

She hears Regina draw in a breath at that. She takes another step in until they’re nearly toe-to-toe. 

“And I didn’t answer him. He didn’t deserve an answer, and it’s not any of his business anyway, but here’s the thing…” She winces, looking up at Regina. “If I _had_ to answer him? I think I would’ve said yes.”

Regina sucks in a shaking breath, and Emma looks up to see tears in her eyes. She’s pretty sure that’s a good sign too, and she keeps going. “I know I’ve been in denial, and I’ve been trying to rationalize how I feel about you, but… I think, when all is said and done, it’s that simple. I think I’m in love with you.”

“Emma,” she whispers.

“And I think that’s why I’ve missed you so much, and I was so depressed when you didn’t want us to hang out anymore. And I’m sorry that I was such an idiot and that it took me so long to—“

Regina throws herself against her before Emma can finish the thought, and she chuckles. Regina’s arms are around her neck, and she catches her against the waist, snaking her arms around tightly. And it feels like magic and lightning and whatever it actually is, it’s so good she feels like her head is going to explode. Her heart feels full again, and she reaches one hand up to sweep through Regina’s hair, cupping the back of her neck. 

Her breath puffs against her ear, and she hears Regina whispering, “I missed you too.”

Emma feels so happy she could just burst into tears. And for a long moment, they just stand there in the foyer, holding each other. Regina tightens her arms around her neck and Emma tightens hers around her waist. They breathe together and she breathes in the scent of amber musk – it’s Regina’s signature scent and one that she’s missed terribly for the last week. She turns her head in to Regina’s neck and presses a kiss there.

Then she feels something shifting. Regina’s arms loosen and a shiver slides down her spine in response. She can feel the slide of Regina’s hair against hers as she pulls back, and Emma leans back enough to meet eyes with her. She feels weightless again and looks down to see them starting to levitate. Somehow, she wills them back to the ground until their feet are touching, and she meets Regina’s eyes again.

Regina’s hands have fallen to her upper arms, and hers are still wrapped around her waist. She knows what she wants this time, and she thinks Regina wants the same thing. So she leans in and captures her lips in a kiss. 

The feeling gives her a jolt – of adrenaline, of lust, of magic – she doesn’t care what it is. But judging by the gasp that flies into her mouth from Regina’s, she feels it too. And it doesn’t take long for things to spiral out of control from there. 

Soon she has her against the wall – a reverse of their positions when Regina had been fighting for Emma to see what was in front of her. She sees it now, and she wants to be naked with it. 

Her hands are on Regina’s waist and Regina’s are in her hair and their tongues are tangling. She moves to kiss along Regina’s throat and this time there’s no overwhelming panic. Instead what overwhelms her is need. 

“You’d better make me stop…” she warns her. Because she’s getting dangerously close to snapping.

Breathless, Regina pulls away and pins her with a smoldering look. “And if I don’t want you to?”

Emma’s eyes go wide, and that feeling sliding down her spine gathers in a very specific place. “Then we’d better go upstairs.”

 

**TBC**


	20. Senses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's so glad Emma has seemingly come to her senses.

***** 

The door to her bedroom bangs open as they crash through it, and if she weren't fused to Emma by the lips, Regina thinks she would be a little more concerned about the integrity of her wall. But then they're falling onto the bed in a flurry of magic and passion and Regina decides she wouldn't care if the entire house fell apart around them. 

Boots and pumps are hurriedly kicked aside and then Emma's sliding her up toward the pillows, crawling in on top of her. She settles in the cradle of her hips, just like that damned 'Never Have I Ever' debacle, only this time it's so much more wonderful. 

She's so glad Emma has seemingly come to her senses. 

The haze that swirls around them grows more vivid by the minute as their kisses grow more heated and desperate. Regina reaches for her and Emma pins her wrist down, sliding the palm of her hand up her wrist to her clenched fist. The lightest touch urges her hand open and their palms slide together, followed by their fingers, and the bright sparks of energy that leap between are pain and pleasure at the same time. 

Regina struggles to breathe, her chest heaving against Emma's, whose focus has now gone to her shirt -- more specifically, to popping each tiny button from its mooring until Regina can feel a breeze against her skin. 

It's hot and cold and there's a bluish haze swirling around her head when she looks up at Emma. This time, she's allowed to touch, and her fingertips ghost down the blonde's cheek before Emma looks up and grins at her, biting down on her lip. 

Then Regina draws her in as she pushes herself up, her lips starving for another taste. When they meet it's like drinking nectar after a stint in the desert. Emma is sweet and strong and the taste goes right to Regina's head, to the point where she has to sink back against the pillows. 

Everything twists and whirls around them and then Emma's peeling her own shirt away, crossing her arms over herself and pulling upward, flinging the pesky item aside when she's done. Her blonde hair tumbles around her face and shoulders - she hasn't curled it much this year but it still falls in unruly waves. Regina can't help reaching forward for another kiss. 

This time, Emma's head knocks hers gently back against the pillow and their bodies slide together. The feel of denim on her bare leg feels wonderfully frustrating, and Regina reaches between them for the button on her jeans. 

Emma pulls away with a chuckle. "Slow down there, where's the fire?" 

She can't even begin to guess what that expression means, nor does she want to take the time to ask. She just huffs impatiently and Emma seems to indulge her, removing the confining article and flinging it onto the floor alongside her shirt. Then she goes to work on Regina's shirt, still resting open against her. She tugs at it until Regina sits up and then Emma's hands work their way under the shirt collar and down her arms, ridding her of the gray silk. 

Her bra is the next item to go, and Emma struggles with the hooks for mere seconds before it opens and she pulls it away. 

Then, they both stop. The enormity of what's happening seems to occur to them at the same time. Regina can even feel the magic between them slowing and stilling. She looks around to see whorls of violet and blue surrounding them, curling slowly around them as if waiting for passion to ignite again. 

"Regina..." Emma breathes, and it's a labored sound. "I still have so many things I need to apologize to you for." 

"I know," she murmurs. She's not about to let Emma off easy - so to speak - after what she's gone through, but for tonight? A moratorium on serious talk is in order. "We can talk about it in the morning." 

"Okay," she nods, and reaches out to run a hand down Regina's sternum. "But you need to know how important this is to me. How important _you_ are." Her eyes are bright blue in this light and they tell her everything she needs to know. 

"I love you too," she answers without thinking, and then Emma swoops down, her lips insistent and hungry. 

The magic kicks up again; the spinning in her head increases the longer and deeper the kiss gets. Her hands tangle in Emma's hair and run down her arms, cupping her breasts and teasing her until she can hear a soft giggle against her lips. 

Emma's hands do a little wandering of their own; they start at Regina's neck and one fingertip traces downward, across her collarbone, the rest of her fingertips following as if they're traveling over braille. They find her heart and press inward hard; so hard that Regina wonders if Emma knows the heart-stealing trick. 

Then her palm rests there and Regina can hear her own heartbeat as the kisses they exchange become fevered. Emma is panting against her and Regina places her hand over Emma's heart, their foreheads meeting. 

Emma is sitting astride her now, both of them naked save for their underwear, foreheads connected and hands on one another's hearts. They breathe together and Regina steals a glance up at the blonde, gasping at what she sees. 

Stars (or what looks like stars) - thousands of them, orbiting around them slowly as if they're in their own galaxy. Their magic is mixed within; nebulae of violet and blue, and streaks of gold cutting through. She's never seen magic like this. She doesn't even know how they're conjuring it. It hovers around them like a cloud; almost as if they've found themselves in a plume of fairy dust, but... somehow this feels more pure and elemental. 

In this moment, right now, they're fire and water and air and earth and every element in the universe, crashing and combining. Emma kisses her again and Regina feels just _everything_ \-- Emma's in her heart and her bloodstream and nothing has ever been this intense. 

Underwear is discarded and Regina pulls the covers over them, further enshrouding them in the universe they've created in her room. Their legs tangle together beneath the sheets as they roll on their sides facing one another. More kisses are exchanged, though these are lighter. She touches Emma's face and feels the blonde's hands in her hair, and their foreheads touch once again. 

"Gotta admit," Emma drawls, "I kinda thought when this started that 'quick-and-dirty' was gonna be your thing." 

Regina can't help the chuckle. "It usually is." She searches Emma's eyes. "But... this time--" 

"You wanna make it last?" Off Regina's nod, Emma nods back. "Me too." 

She kisses her again; it starts out slow and tender. Then the passion catches up with them once more and the kisses deepen; hunger consumes her and starts an ache, low in her belly and sliding down to pool between her legs. 

She squirms against Emma and the blonde rolls on top of her, slipping a hand between them. It touches down right where she wants it to and Regina calls out, her head lolling back. Emma leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses down her neck as her hand begins to rub in a circular motion. Regina gasps with every tingle that rockets through her and writhes against Emma's hand. She can feel the blonde smiling against her throat before she nips her collarbone and slides her lips lower. 

Regina lets out a strangled moan as Emma teases her breasts with flicks of the tongue followed by long licks and kisses. She feels her hand retreating and whimpers, trying to reach for one of Emma's wrists. 

"Where's the fire?" she teases again, kissing from the bottom of her ribcage down to the slope of her stomach. 

"Down _there_ ," Regina chuckles, though her voice comes out throaty and practically strangled with desire. 

"Relax, I'll get there," she soothes, but it's a tortuous sound. After a beat, she chuckles, "Remember I've never done this before?" 

Regina's still not entirely sure she believes her, but indulges her nonetheless, nodding her consent for Emma to take her time. And take her time she does. She slides her hands down Regina's legs and kisses the indentation leading in from each hip bone. And Regina can do nothing but whine and whimper and squirm, trying to shimmy herself around so Emma's lips reach their target. 

Eventually, Emma must decide to put her out of her misery. Regina feels a kiss at her center and her legs fall open. Emma is tentative and unsure - so unlike her usual cocky, arrogant attitude. And though Regina feels like she is literally going to burst, she gives Emma time to adjust and become comfortable. 

Then, everything hits her at once. Emma's tongue starts performing some sort of voodoo and Regina feels sparks all over her skin. Every kiss sends off a vibration that shudders through her bones and brings her to new levels of ecstasy. She calls the blonde's name, the shortened version coming out when desire chokes her. Her head tosses back and forth on the pillow as the occasional curse word escapes or as she vocalizes her agreement with Emma's ministrations. 

She grabs a handful of the pillow and then the sheet, then Emma's hair as she gets closer and closer. Her muscles tighten and lock and she's so very close. She calls out to Emma and, for a moment she feels as though she's going to pass out when suddenly everything releases. 

She twitches and shakes and swears again, Emma's name laced within every other word. Wave after wave hits her and she sees those thousands of starts bursting open and creating supernovas behind her closed eyelids. 

Then it all starts to ebb away, receding like the tide as she sinks against the mattress, sated and sweaty. It takes a full minute for her to be able to take in a full breath of air, and she can feel the mattress dipping and shifting as Emma slides up to lie beside her, propped on one elbow. 

She gives herself time to recover, closing her eyes and tilting her head toward Emma's kisses making their way across her shoulder. She hears herself sighing, happily, and smiling when Emma's hand tightens around her waist. 

Then she flips the blonde onto her back, relishing the look of surprise and excitement she gets in return. Her eyes flash and Regina can't help the devilish grin. She can give as good as she gets, and it seems that Emma's a lot less uncertain about receiving as she is about giving. 

Regina slides her lips down the center of Emma's body, venturing off here and there to lavish attention on her breasts, her navel and her hips. She tickles her fingers down Emma's leg and it seems that Emma is just as impatient as she. So she lifts her head and teases, "Where's the fire?" 

But before Emma can respond, Regina dips her head between her legs and flicks her tongue against her. Emma gasps and jerks against her, tensing. Smiling, Regina kisses her gently and keeps going, giving her time to adjust. Before long, Emma is writhing against her, swearing when she hits a particular spot and occasionally lifting her hips. 

Regina pins her down, enjoying the sounds she makes, even when her arm across Emma's hips conjures a frustrated growl. 

Then it doesn't take long before Emma's flying; her hips raise sharply off the bed and her entire body stills and then shakes, loud cries escaping her mouth. Regina feels her fingers in her hair and smiles, waiting until she calms before she lifts her head and dusts kisses to Emma's inner thighs. 

She looks up to see Emma's sweat-dusted chest heaving, her hand over her eyes. "God," she pants after a moment. "I think I saw stars." 

Regina's heart skips briefly, wondering if Emma saw the exact same imagery and if that was part of whatever magic they've created, and slides up toward the pillows, blanketing Emma with her body. "Mine was like that too," she murmurs, kissing the blonde's neck. 

Emma wraps a strong arm around her waist, hugging her tight for a moment before she turns them onto their sides, throwing a leg over Regina's hip. "As much as I wanna keep going, I think I might need to rest for a bit. That was too damn good." 

Smirking, Regina leans in for a kiss. "Works for me."

 

***** 

When she stirs again, the room is pitch black. A few errant sparks light up here and there - a quick flashbulb like a firefly; leftover remnants of their magic. She feels blindly beside her for Emma, and the sheets are cold. 

Regina sits up sharply, looking around. Her sleep-addled mind disorients her and makes her question the events -- had all of that really happened? Or had it been nothing more than a spectacularly vivid dream? 

Throwing the covers back, she reaches for the gray silk robe she keeps nearby and pulls it on, tying it around her. Given that she's naked, she's more inclined to believe that the events of the evening were, indeed, real. But still, one question remains -- where is Emma? 

Did she panic and run back home? Was it too much for her and she had to sleep in another room? 

She's almost to the door when she hears a metallic clatter coming from downstairs, followed by a distinct, sharply-whispered, "Shit! Shhhh." 

Regina chuckles to herself, rolling her eyes, and quietly heads downstairs. She follows the noise to the kitchen, poking her head around the corner. Sure enough, there's Emma, swathed in Regina's silk blouse rifling through her freezer. 

"Would you mind keeping it down?" she quips wryly, enjoying the way the blonde jumps and lets out a small shriek. 

"Jesus!" She's got a spoon in her hand and the small pint of Regina's finest ice cream. She points to her with the spoon. "Don't do that!" 

She chuckles, making her way over. "Then don't make so much noise." Pointing to the small container of ice cream, she arches a brow and asks, "And who said you could have that?" 

Emma dips a spoon inside and takes a big bite, grinning around it. "I did." 

Regina rolls her eyes, grabbing for a spoon. "Well, the least you could have done was wake me up so I could have some too." 

"Didn't want to." Emma hops up on the counter and Regina eyes her position, considering shoving her off. 

She refrains, inwardly deeming it a one-time allowance. 

"You looked too peaceful, I just couldn't do it." Then, Emma begins to swing her legs, her heels periodically bashing into the cupboards, and Regina cringes at the sound, instead choosing to focus on the way the blonde brings out another spoonful of ice cream and flips the spoon upside down just as it gets to her mouth, grinning when she pulls it out. "Besides. I wanted the ice cream all to myself." 

Regina glares, though it comes off as soft. She dips her own spoon inside the container and takes a bite of the caramel-swirl confection, savoring the smooth, cool taste as it slides down. "When I woke up and didn't see you, I thought you ran," she admits, voice quiet. 

"I'm sorry," Emma apologizes. "I know that's all my fault. And that's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about earlier." 

"Oh?" Regina dips her spoon in for more ice cream. 

"Yeah." Emma swallows her spoonful. "Running is what I'm used to doing. It's how I can keep myself from getting close to people and, sorta, dealing with the aftermath of being close to someone." Looking up, she meets her eyes, and the sparkle in the moonlight. "I started attached to you and it scared the shit out of me. I wanted to be around you _all_ the time, and I've never felt that way before. So I ran. And I'm sorry. That wasn't fair to you." 

"It wasn't," Regina agrees, setting her spoon aside. "And it might take a bit of time for me to regain my trust in you." 

Emma nods, legs still swinging away. "I know. I just... want you to know, that I'm done now. I don't wanna run from this." Reaching her leg out, she runs her toes along her thigh. "I wanna enjoy it, and I wanna love you." She smiles, the expression bashful under the silver light coming in through the windows. "I _do_ love you." 

Regina smiles back, a thousand watts, and slips between the blonde's legs as she leans up for a kiss. Emma is quick to kiss back, wrapping her legs around Regina to keep her close. And, as usual with the two of them, it doesn't take long for things to escalate. 

Regina starts fumbling with the buttons on her silk blouse, opening it further to touch more of Emma. She can feel Emma smirking as she kisses her neck, teasing, "Are we really gonna do this here? Don't queens deserve a bed?" 

"They do, but _this_ queen is a tad impatient," Regina tells her, untying her robe and slipping it off her shoulders. 

It falls onto the tile in a puddle of silk, she she looks up to meet Emma's appreciative stare. "God, you're gorgeous." 

"Your seduction tactics are weak, Miss Swan," she teases, and pulls her in again.

 

***** 

When Regina wakes for the final time, it's early afternoon. She and Emma thoroughly exhausted one another, several times in several different locations, until the sun began to rise. She sits up and begins to dress, remembering the way Emma had laid on top of her in the early morning, her blonde hair a curtain around them, lighting her like a sunburst. 

Her muscles ache pleasantly and she hopes Emma is in a similar state of euphoria. When she reaches beside her, again the sheets are empty, only this time she suppresses the panic and dresses quickly, heading downstairs. 

In the kitchen, she finds a single rose in a vase along with a note. Her heart flutters as she unfolds it: 

_Went home to change and get a little more sleep, then I'm coming back here. I'm not done making up for lost time._

_-E_

And Regina smiles to herself, giving the rose a sniff as she sighs aloud, "Thank God she came to her senses." 

 

 

**TBC**


	21. Basking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of all this feels surreal - like it hasn't actually happened. Like they didn't spend all of last night making up for lost time and lolling in ecstasy.

*****

With sore, strained muscles and a deep sense of regret, Emma drags herself out of bed. She stretches her arms and stares out the window, at the bright red apples dangling from the tree in the backyard, surrounded by rose bushes in full bloom. The entire yard is sprinkled with red and she feels drawn to it.

Turning over her shoulder, she takes a moment to stare at Regina. She's asleep on her side facing toward her. Her left arm is sprawled on the mattress, partway beneath her. Her right hand is resting just under the corner of her pillow, and there's a smile on her face.

Emma smiles at the sight, feeling her heart swell. Part of all this feels surreal - like it hasn't actually happened. Like they didn't spend all of last night making up for lost time and lolling in ecstasy.

She desperately wants to stay in bed with her, basking in the afterglow, but she knows she can't. She knows her parents are probably already worried that she's been out all night without a word -- she can't just show up in another four or five hours with no explanation.

That's when she gets a look at the clock. It's already past ten. With that, she starts throwing her clothes on, trying to be as quiet as possible, though it doesn't seem to matter -- Regina's pretty much comatose.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she stops. She throws a look over her shoulder, up the stairs. She knows that she can't just leave with no explanation -- she's done so much running already, and she doesn't want Regina to think she regrets what happened.

So she heads out to the back yard with a pair of scissors. If Regina gets mad at her for this, she'll make up for it. She can add it to Emma's endless tab of "Things to Make Up to Regina." And she snips off the nicest looking rose she can find -- toward the back of the bush, so hopefully Regina won't find it for awhile.

Then she takes it inside, puts it in a vase, and scrawls a quick note before heading out to the car. Just as she knew she couldn't leave Regina without a little reassurance, she also knows that she can't just waltz through the door of the loft with no explanation. Mary Margaret is going to be on her right away, expecting she's just spent the night with Neal.

That's when she spots him, walking down Main Street toward the pawn shop. _Speak of the devil,_ she thinks.

_Or... think of the devil. Whatever._

And she's all set to drive past him, when he turns and sees her, motioning to her.

"Shit," she whispers. Neal is really the last person she wants to see right now. She just wants to get home, and get the interrogation from her mother underway.

Still, she pulls the car over and climbs out, slamming the door. "Neal."

"Emma." He's got a certain tone in his voice -- a little bit amused -- and he's smirking. That can't mean anything good.

"What do you want?"

"Bumped into your dad this morning." He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking way too damn pleased with himself. "He was looking for you -- said you didn't come home last night, and figured you were with me."

Then, he looks her up and down, and she shifts anxiously.

"Are you... wearing the same clothes from last night?"

She rolls her eyes. "Look, whatever you told David--"

"I just told him the truth," he shrugs. "I told him that we went to the bar last night, and you stormed out and I haven't seen you since."

Great. If David hasn't sent out a search party by now, then Mary Margaret certainly has.

She's probably got the dwarfs combing the mines.

"Where did you go, anyway?"

She shoots him a look. "None of your damn business."

But sometimes she forgets that Neal can, on the occasion, read her like a book. His grin just grows wider as a result, and if they weren't standing right in front of his sorcerer daddy's little shop she would've punched him by now.

"Regina?" he asks next, waggling his eyebrows, and seriously Gold is going to rue the day he made her find his stupid son.

And she's not going to answer him. It's not his business and he has no right to an answer. Oh fuck it, it'll make him jealous. "Y'know what, yeah." She holds out her arms in an exaggerated shrug. "I was with Regina, big friggin' deal. And y'know what else?" Leaning in, she gives him a little smirk in return and says, "Best sex I've ever had."

Then she hops in her car and peels out, leaving him staring open-mouthed at her as she drives away.

**

She makes it to the loft and actually gets inside long enough to take off her coat and boots before Mary Margaret materializes and begins the interrogation. "Emma, there you are! Thank goodness. Where were you? We were so worried about you!"

Then she's throwing her arms around her and almost knocking Emma over and she kinda has to take a moment to get her bearings, patting her mother's back.

"Yeah, sorry. I meant to call, but my phone was being weird." Oh man, she hopes Mary Margaret knows as little about cell phones as she thinks she does.

"Oh." Frowning, she asks, "Well where were you?"

David comes through the door, then, with Henry in tow. Henry hugs her -- she thinks they're finally getting back to normal -- and asks her the same exact question. "Emma, where were you? You didn't come home last night."

"I know, kid," she sighs, tousling his hair. "I'm sorry."

She still hasn't explained a damn thing, and she figures that's why Mary Margaret is staring at her so much.

David looks down at Henry and tells him, "Henry, why don't you go make your bed."

"Okay," he shrugs. He's probably used to grownups around him needing to talk. It happens enough with her and Neal, and her and Regina, that Henry's probably given up on fighting it.

Once he's out of earshot, David turns to her. "I saw Neal this morning."

Mary Margaret gasps, looking to Emma with wide eyes. "You spent the night with Neal?!" she whispers.

But David is still looking at Emma as he replies for her, "No. She didn't."

Emma flicks her eyes to him; she's gotten to know him a bit since they were suddenly family. But even then, she has no idea whether or not he's pissed right now. It kinda seems like it, but... maybe not.

Mary Margaret takes a step in, drawing her attention. "Well then where were you?"

Shrugging, she widens her eyes a bit and asks, "Does it matter? Jeez."

"Yes, it matters." David folds his arms. "We were worried when you didn't show up."

"Well I used to just sleep at Regina's all the time and you guys didn't freak out!"

"But we know that things with you and Regina haven't exactly been friendly lately..." Her mother tilts her head.

Raising her brows, Emma sighs, "Well we sure were last night."

Squinting, Mary Margaret asks, "What does that mean?"

And Emma's starting to get tired of this conversation. It's stupid, but she misses Regina already and wants to get back.

Also when she gets back she'd prefer it if they got naked again, like, immediately.

"It means that I was with Regina last night."

"Oh." Mary Margaret looks relieved, and puts a hand over her heart. She really has no idea.

And maybe it's because she has a death wish, but Emma kinda wants to see the look on her face when she figures it out. So she helps her along. "No. Guys. I mean... I was _with_ Regina last night."

Frowning, David asks, "In what way?"

Emma raises her eyebrows and thinks, _in every way_.

She thinks of the way Regina looked, with her head thrown back in ecstasy. She thinks of the sounds of pleasure that came from her lips and how amazing she looked slipping that silk robe off her shoulders in the kitchen.

She thinks of all the places in the house that they christened over the last twelve hours and how she'd very much like to get back to doing that, and then she can't help the ridiculous grin on her face.

"Emma?"

She looks up. Her eyes bounce between both of her parents, and she's still grinning like a complete moron. She takes a breath and decides she's had enough of tip-toeing around their history as she sighs out, "In a, uh... in a really, _really_ naked way."

Then she waits for the other shoe to drop.

David's eyebrows fly up immediately -- so high, she almost wonders if they're gonna climb off his head. His stance shifts, but he still has his arms folded across his chest.

Mary Margaret looks like she's gonna faint. She sits down on the steps leading up to the loft, and her mouth is opening and closing, trying to form thoughts. She's not looking at Emma or at David or anybody -- just staring off into space.

And though David looks confused about her revelation, he seems more concerned about his wife's state of mind. Or that's what Emma figures, because instead of using her 'current' name, he calls out cautiously, "Snow?"

Mary Margaret makes a couple small noises -- like she's breathing really hard or trying to get out an 'H' sound. Then, she looks up at Emma and asks, "How?"

Emma stares at her dubiously. "You mean, like... a play-by-play?"

"God no. I just..." She stands, slowly if a little cautiously, just staring at Emma like she can't figure her out. "Regina? I mean she, she's..."

"My best friend," Emma tells her, quietly so as not to startle her or weird her out any further. "She's the best friend I've ever had, and I'm kinda in love with her."

Okay fine, a lot in love. Especially since last night. She thinks it might be a borderline addiction, and she's practically itching for another fix.

"I need time to think," Mary Margaret interrupts her thoughts, still not looking at anyone directly.

"Okay." Emma nods, expecting as much. She's just happy her mother's not screaming. Or crying. But then again, crying's not her first go-to coping mechanism anyway.

David's the crier.

So she dips her head, trying to get her mother's attention. "Is there anything I can say? Or do?"

She nods. "You can leave."

Now _that_ , she wasn't expecting. Neither was David if the look on his face is any indication.

But Emma's in no mood to fight. So she throws her hands up and says, "You got it," before turning to leave.

She's halfway down the steps and almost to the front door when she hears loud, heavy footsteps trailing after her in quick succession.

"Emma!"

She spins in the lobby. "David?"

"I'm sorry... about--"

"It's okay," she tells him, shaking her head. "I get it. The past and everything."

"Right. It, um..." He throws a look over his shoulder, up the stairs as if Mary Margaret might hear him from two floors down. "It might take her awhile to accept."

Raising her eyebrows, with one hand on the door knob, she asks him, "And you?"

He meets her eyes. "I'll be fine." He must be able to read the look of 'bullshit' on her face, because he tilts his head. "Really. I certainly have my own issues with Regina, but... I can see how much she's changed. And I know that that's largely due to you."

He grabs her hand and holds her gaze, his own softening as a slight smile hits his face.

"Bottom line, Emma? You're my daughter, and I love you. Everything else will work out, in one way or another."

She smiles. "Right."

Still standing a few steps above her, David gives her hand a squeeze and leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He then promises her he'll bring Henry to the house later and bids her farewell.

"Huh," she murmurs to herself when he's gone. "Guess that went better than I thought."

 

*****

Her first instinct when she gets in the car is to call Regina, but she doesn't pick up. And as badly as she wants to see her, she kinda feels like she should let her sleep. It's the least she can do -- or maybe she can count it toward her never ending list of things to make up to Regina for. Maybe if she lets her get extra sleep now, it can help to make up for some of the sleep Regina lost when Emma was being a moron.

So she stops off at Granny's. Ruby's already at the counter and gives her a smile. "Hey, Emma! Cocoa?"

"Yes please -- to go."

Ruby nods, filling up a Styrofoam cup and throwing a lid on. Turning over her shoulder, she asks, "How'd your date go last night?"

Emma's eyebrows fly up as she sidles onto a bar stool. "Well, it went better once I ditched Neal."

Ruby's eyes go immediately wide. "What?" she hisses. And she clearly knows something's up. "Tell me everything."

Emma plays dumb -- "About what?" -- simply because it's way too fun watching Ruby's eyes bug out of her head.

She gives Emma a look, sliding the to-go cup toward her. "Oh please. I'd know the 'I got laid' look on anybody. And if you weren't with Neal, then..." A weird screech comes out of her mouth, disturbing some of the other diner patrons, and Granny gives them both a look but it gets ignored by Ruby.

"Come on!" she pushes. "Spill!"

"I guess all I can say is..." She looks down at her hands, tracing indiscriminate patterns on the Formica. "When I saw you and her at the bar, I guess it kinda..." She shrugs. "Knocked some sense into me."

"So you saw us hugging?"

Emma nods.

Suddenly, Ruby looks proud. Almost... smug. And she says, "Well... good!"

"Wait a minute, wait." Something clicks into place, and she tilts her head downward, giving Ruby a look through her lashes. "Did you plan that?"

"Plan what?" And now Ruby's the one playing dumb, and it works about as well on Emma as hers did on Ruby. "I didn't plan anything."

"You're lying," she grins.

Ruby can't hide the smirk on her face, and she rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine. I knew you were looking and I hugged her on purpose to make you jealous."

"But... how did you know we'd show up there?" She asks. "Me and Neal, I mean."

Ruby shrugs. "I didn't," she says, and this time she's telling the truth. "But when you showed up, I saw how upset Regina was, and I just..." She gives a little impish smile. "Tipped the scales in her favor."

Emma shakes her head, still smirking in disbelief. "Why would you do that?"

"Because, believe it or not... I actually _do_ really like Regina. I want to be her friend. And part of being a friend is wanting someone to be happy." Reaching across the counter, she gives Emma's shoulder a light shove. "And that goes for you, too. And neither of you look anywhere near as happy as you do when you're together." She shrugs again. "So... I did what I had to do."

Emma chuckles and reaches for her wallet, throwing down enough to cover her tab, as well as a generous tip. "Well... a thank-you drink is in order, I suppose."

"I won't turn that down," Ruby grins.

 

*****

She gets to Regina's and lets herself in, not bothering to knock. The silent pact she made with herself to let Regina sleep has been voided -- she really wants to see her, and doesn't mind incurring her sleepy wrath to do so.

The foyer is empty and so is the rest of the downstairs area. She peeks in the kitchen and doesn't see the rose or the note, so she smiles and heads for the stairs. "Regina?"

"Emma?" Her tone is full of surprise and totally awake, and soon she appears around the corner from the master bedroom.

In an instant, Regina's face lights up, and Emma herself feels like she's smiling so hugely and stupidly that her face is gonna fall off.

Yep, all of those things she's been thinking and feeling, about Regina? Definitely love.

"You came back," Regina sighs, and she almost sounds relieved.

Emma can't help the smirk. "Did you ever doubt I would?"

Then they're crashing together again, exchanging desperate kisses. Emma kisses her lips, then her chin and her jaw, then just under her ear before she snakes her arms around Regina's waist and squeezes her tightly, burying her face in her neck.

Instantly, she feels heady, like she's walking on air. She can feel pops and buzzes where Regina's skin touches hers and she wonders if it's always going to feel like that -- if it's always going to kick up magic.

"How did things go?" Regina asks, and it's like she knows that she's already spilled the beans.

"Later," Emma tells her, and kisses her again. "I told you -- I wanna make up for lost time."

And make up for it they do.

**

When she regains consciousness, it's almost dinnertime. She wakes up to an empty bed missing Regina, and she can hear the shower running in the other room.

She pulls her clothes on and makes her way downstairs, rummaging around in the cupboards. Regina joins her not long after and Emma smiles at the way her damp hair curls at the ends. They're just about to start bickering over what to eat when there's a knock at the door.

"That's probably David," Emma tells her. "He said he'd be bringing Henry by."

Regina nods and kisses her one more time, and the two of them head for the door. Emma reaches it first and readies herself for whatever exchange is going to take place between Regina and David.

Then the door swings open and instead of David, there's Mary Margaret, her eyes already centered on Regina.

And suddenly Emma can't think of anything more intelligible to say than, "...Oh."

 

**TBC**


	22. Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever this is, it feels like... healing. It seeks out the void in her heart left by Daniel and fills it with love and companionship. It seeks out every dark spot that bloomed from a kill and injects it with light. It finds every vengeful thought and wraps it in forgiveness.

***** 

Henry's greeting to them both is bright and happy. "Hi, Moms!" 

Regina chuckles. "Hello, Henry." If he has any idea what's going on, he gives no indication whatsoever. 

He does, however, glance between the three of them and sighs heavily, wincing up at Emma. "Grown-up talk time again?" 

"Yeah," Emma sighs, her glance apologetic. "Sorry, kid." 

Henry shakes his head and trudges past them, dragging his backpack. "Man. When do I get to start sticking around for these?" 

Smiling, Regina tousles his hair as he passes and she tells him, "In another seven years," before watching him head upstairs. 

An awkward silence settles as she, Emma, and Snow wait for Henry to get to his room. When they hear the door click shut, their eyes are back on each other. 

Snow looks to her daughter. "Emma, I have something I need to say." 

Emma nods, as though she's suspected as much, and says, "I know." 

Regina reaches out, her hand touching down on Emma's shoulder as she tells her quietly, "I'll just give you a moment," before she turns to leave. 

The voice of the princess stops her in her tracks, her tone firm and sure. "Regina, I'd prefer it if you stayed for this." 

She turns back, slowly, searching her eyes. She looks a cross between angry and scared; it's always been an interesting expression on Snow. And though Regina has not once feared her, she knows to proceed with caution when that expression appears. So she nods once, replying smoothly and regally, "Alright..." 

And then she takes her place beside Emma, folding her hands in front of her. Emma turns to look at her, questioning, but she doesn't meet her eyes. She's not yet certain what the princess has planned for discussion, but she will not display weakness in front of her. And if she looks at Emma, she knows the love will be written all over her face -- her greatest weakness exposed. 

"Emma," Snow begins. "I'm sorry for asking you to leave this morning." 

Regina raises her brows. _So the all-accepting, love-not-war royal threw her daughter out?_

She knew when Emma arrived that something had happened -- it was in her eyes -- but of course, there hadn't been time to discuss it. 

But now, Emma shows no signs of resentment -- just understanding on her features as she shrugs facially. "I'm not. I figured you needed some time." 

"I did. And, I've had a lot of time to think things over." 

Regina smirks, preparing herself for what's coming. She's seen over the years that Snow can handle a lot -- but her daughter falling in love with an enemy? That's a bit beyond reach -- even for her. 

"Regina." 

The sound of her name draws her attention, and this time the princess is focused on her. She blinks expectantly, tilting her head. 

And Snow still hasn't come inside, but she takes a step forward -- nearly at the threshold. "I want this feud between us to end." 

One eyebrow lifts, and Regina slowly shifts her stance, folding her arms in interest. Part of her wonders if she'd heard correctly. "I beg your pardon?" 

"For so long, Regina, we have been punishing each other. Over a mistake made by a child. And I came here, ready to tell you to stay away from my daughter." 

Regina swallows and lets her eyes drift to Emma, who by now is looking apprehensive. 

"Mom..." Emma calls cautiously, and by the look on Snow's face, she's never heard the title. 

"Emma, it's okay," she exhales her smile, and looks to Regina once more. 

Regina straightens her spine and readies herself. 

"I came here ready to start a war, but then I realized -- we're already in one. And it has gone on far too long." Snow shakes her head, emotion taking over and turning her voice tremulous. "And despite what you think, Regina, I have always cared about you. Always." 

She swallows hard once more. 

"Even when you banished me, when you poisoned me, I still cared about you." Tears well in Snow's eyes. "I knew that the vengeful person you became was not who you really are. I knew you were capable of goodness, and of love. Because it was what you showed me when we first met." 

Shifting beside her, Emma reaches for her hand, renewing Regina's strength. Regina squeezes back and keeps her eyes on the princess as she continues. 

"All I wanted was for you to find happiness. My wanting you to be happy was what started this mess in the first place! I saw how happy you were with Daniel and I knew you wouldn't have that with my father. So I tried to get your mother to see that too. I had no idea what she was going to do, Regina, I promise you." 

Regina can feel the tension whipping through Emma, the sensation traveling through their connected hands. She can feel a transfer of magic from Emma to her; though this feels much more controlled than anytime passion has sparked it between them. 

Whatever this is, it feels like... healing. It seeks out the void in her heart left by Daniel and fills it with love and companionship. It seeks out every dark spot that bloomed from a kill and injects it with light. It finds every vengeful thought and wraps it in forgiveness. 

She doesn't know if Emma's even aware she's doing it. One surreptitious glance confirms the thought that it's just occurring without intent. Emma's repairing her while being none the wiser. 

So Regina looks up. She meet's Snow's eyes and the forgiveness choking every vengeful intention causes her to finally reply, "I know." 

Both Snow and Emma react with surprise, though Snow's is more on the side of shocked. Emma's hand drops hers but the waves of warmth and light and purity remain, traveling through her bloodstream. 

"I know that it wasn't your fault, Snow," she tells her again. "I perhaps didn't wish to see it then. But..." She looks over at Emma and smiles. "I see it now." 

Emma regards her as if she's crazy. "You do?" 

She nods, then turns back to the princess. "And I'd like this feud between us to end as well." 

Snow exhales a big smile -- it's the kind as bright as the sun, the kind she's projected as long as Regina's known her. And she knows they'll never be the best of friends, nor will Snow just willingly accept and encourage this unorthodox relationship between she and Emma. 

But hopefully, they can learn to co-exist.

 

***** 

The co-existence turns out better than she could have expected. Even two years later, things are still going strong. She and Snow are not the best of friends, just as she predicted, but then again they were never meant to be that to each other. 

The whole situation with Neal, and with Gold, seemed to have resolved itself. After some rumblings of Gold unleashing hell on Storybrooke, his son threatened to leave and never speak to him again. Not to mention, his bookish paramour apparently threatened the same, and the combination was enough to get him to back down. 

Whatever he'd been planning, he instead opened a portal between Storybrooke and the Enchanted Forest -- a portal that could be accessed through the mines that would allow the citizens to easily pass between realms. Regina no longer had a stronghold over Storybrooke, nor did she want one. She still acted as mayor and Emma kept her reign as sheriff. David and Snow began to split their time between realms, wanting to rebuild their kingdom -- a few went with them, but Regina was surprised to see how many citizens opted to stay in Storybrooke. 

Ruby stuck around and she and Emma got together with her on occasion. Within that first year, Regina became less and less a social pariah. She was by no means a town favorite, nor was she an outcast. 

Henry began to sprout upward over the past two years and he practically towers over both she and Emma. He has been the biggest supporter of their relationship, and continually gives them grief over every small display of affection. Though she has noticed, as he gets closer and closer to starting high school, that he doesn't give them as hard a time about it as he used to. Not only that, but she's noticed he's begun spending time with Jefferson's daughter, Grace, his cheeks and freckles darkening whenever her name is mentioned. 

Around month six was when Emma began moving some of her belongings over to the estate. First it was just a few small items -- toiletries to keep in the bathroom. Then Regina began to notice the array of leather jackets suddenly taking up space in her closet, then her rapidly declining amount of room in her dresser. By the time their first anniversary rolled around, they were unofficially living together. 

And now, on the eve of their second anniversary, she and Emma have the estate to themselves. Henry is in Manhattan for the weekend with his father. 

Neal is still a fixture in his life, and though Regina can't say that she's pleased, things seemed to have ironed themselves out there. She still enjoys making Neal squirm and her intent to do so only worsens when Emma gives her a hard time. 

Though as much as she can't stand him, she has to admit to herself -- particularly on nights like tonight -- that sometimes it's useful having him present in Henry's life. 

"Your turn," Emma tells her, drawing her from her thoughts with a smile. 

Regina meets her eyes and gives a grin back, easily claiming a white pawn with her black rook. Then she grips the glass of wine in her hand and raises it as she says, "Never have I ever gone clubbing." 

"That's it?!" Emma balks at her, then takes a large gulp of her wine. "That was lame, Regina." 

"I'm certain you'll come up with something better, oh worldly one," she teases. 

"Shut up," Emma smirks, and points a finger at Regina's glass before it fills again, seemingly on its own. 

She's taught Emma a great deal about magic over the last two years, though her grasp on white magic was always tenuous at best. Perhaps it's more apt to say that they've learned together. 

A saying that holds truth on many different levels. 

"Your turn," she tells Emma, and grips the stem of her glass. 

"Alright alright." 

Emma looks nervous all of a sudden, and Regina can't quite fathom why. They've played this game often in the past two years -- mostly when they're drinking together and mostly the topics of the game have steered into the sexual realm, which always results in them falling into bed together. 

Not that she minds. 

Tonight, though, Emma looks apprehensive about taking her turn. "Alright," she sighs, and Regina wonders how much more she'll use that word before she actually takes her turn. 

To her chagrin, Emma moves her knight into the perfect position to claim the black queen as her own. But instead, she looks up. The green in her eyes is particularly intense this evening as she murmurs, almost too quietly, "Never have I ever asked someone to marry me." 

As she says this, a wave of her hand produces a ring, encircling the top of the black queen. Regina's mouth goes slack and she stares. The low light in the den catches in the marquise-cut diamond solitaire and she raises her eyes to the sea of green again. 

"Emma..." 

Emma swallows. They're sitting adjacent to one another, splitting the corner of the marble table where they first kissed two years before. The blonde slides closer and begins to fumble over her words. 

"Here's the thing," she begins in that perfectly 'Emma' way. "I've spent my entire life running -- running from my past, from getting close to people, from everything. And when I first came here to drop Henry off, I was ready to run again. But there's one thing that made me wanna stay, and it wasn't him." 

She meets her eyes. 

"It was you. And maybe I stayed for the wrong reasons in the beginning. I stayed to piss you off, to make things hell for you, whatever. But the longer I stayed because of you, the more I felt like I belonged here. You're the only person that's ever made me wanna stay in one place, and you're making me wanna stay forever." 

Regina swallows though her mouth has gone completely dry. Emma's eyes are bewitching her and she can't look away from them. "What are you saying?" she rasps. 

Emma tilts her head. "I'm saying that this..." She grasps her hand. "Whatever this is... I think it's forever." She smiles. "Marry me, Regina." 

And then there's only one thing left to say. And it's said with a year of frustration, months of turmoil and loneliness, and then two years of bliss with the promise of more. It's said with tears and laughter and so much love, she thinks she'll splinter into pieces. 

And as a first for her, it's said without hesitation and with complete certainty... 

"Yes."

 

 

**FIN**


End file.
